Running The Gauntlet
by acetamide
Summary: What if your dreams and nightmares existed in the same place? What if to gain everything you had to lose everything? What if to get to heaven you had to brave hell? Would you still go there?
1. Sunday evening, September 4th

Running The Gauntlet

What if your dreams and nightmares existed in the same place?

What if to gain everything you had to lose everything?

What if to get to heaven you had to brave hell?

Would you still go there?

Draco Malfoy stared up at the green silk hangings of his bed contemplatively. Soft snoring punctuated the silence that otherwise hung in the night air. It was well into the early hours of the morning, but as of yet Malfoy had not fallen asleep. Not that he wasn't trying – but the bloody insomnia that had plagued him for most of the summer had come back with a vengeance. Every time he started drifting off, he was snapped back to full consciousness with a bump.

He let out a faint growl as his frustration got the better of him. Tomorrow lessons would start, and he was in no mood to be yelled at for falling asleep in most of them. Potions would be no trouble – Snape probably couldn't care less if he was awake or not, provided he do his work – but the rest of the subjects would be hell. Having decided to start training as an Auror over the holidays, he was unfortunately taking most subjects for his NEWTs. Not that it was a problem. He was pretty good at all his subjects, and since it was only the base subjects he had to study he had no worries about the course. He didn't know who else was taking the same subjects as him – he wouldn't until tomorrow – but he had no doubt that Potter would be in Defence Against The Dark Arts, and Granger would be taking as many subjects as humanly possible – or inhumanly, knowing the girl.

Crabbe and Goyle hadn't returned for the last two years of school. Malfoy had always thought their collective intelligence to be shadowed by that of a squashed Knarl, and he was quite correct. They had only passed their end of year tests with considerable help from their Housemaster and Malfoy himself, and had received nothing higher than a 'P' in each OWL. Snape had point blank refused to tweak their marks this time around – as he said, year exams were one thing, but these were national exams and he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of being sacked for fixing the results of incompetent students.

Malfoy's grades had been nothing if not pleasing. 'O' in Potions (of course), 'O' in Transfiguration, 'E' in Charms, 'E' in Herbology, 'O' in Arithmancy, 'A' in Care of Magical Creatures, 'E' in Astronomy, 'O' in History of Magic, and 'O' in Defence Against The Dark Arts. He personally blamed his Charms mark on Potter, who had distracted him and made him drop the wineglass he had been levitating. But he wasn't complaining – there were pretty damn good grades as far as he was concerned. If he continued the way he was going, he was certain to get at least five NEWTs at 'E' or above – what was required for Auror training.

He sighed and cleared his mind of everything. His own father was a practised Legilimens, so he had plenty of practice at blocking his mind, releasing all emotions and thoughts. He sometimes found it easier to sleep when his mind was blank.

Half an hour later though, he was still wide-awake. Letting out another small growl in the back of his throat, he swung his legs out of the bed and stood, wrapping a large cloak about his lithe frame before creeping out of the dorm, careful not to wake any of his housemates. He quickly trod the familiar path to Snape's office, the cold stone of the floor numbing the soles of his bare feet and making his near silent footsteps echo loudly. He knocked once on the door and entered.

Snape was sitting at his desk, his normal robes off and thrown carelessly over a nearby chair. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up and he was bent over a pile of essays, red quill dancing over them, staining them with cutting insults. Malfoy was puzzled as to why he had some to mark, but decided he had probably set last year's sixth years it to do over the holidays and hand it in this term when they returned as seventh years. He had heard that the workload almost trebled this year, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Snape didn't look up as Malfoy entered, but just kept on marking papers.

"Are you going to explain to me why you have just wandered into my office at half three in the morning or are you going to wait for me to work it out by myself?" he asked coolly. Malfoy winced.

"I just wondered if you had any Sleeping Potions spare. I haven't been to sleep yet," he said quietly. Snape was by no means cruel to him, but Malfoy held the man in respect, by which consequence his voice became reserved when talking to the Potions Master.

"I am sure that if you tried, you would fall asleep in no time," the man replied scathingly.

"I have tried," Malfoy said simply. "I can't sleep,"

Snape finally looked up at him, and surveyed his features for a moment before standing slowly and walking over to one of the cabinets on the wall to his left. Malfoy watched as he unlocked the glass cupboard and drew from it a small vial of red potion. He handed it to his student.

"Go to sleep," he said shortly, and Malfoy murmured his thanks before turning to leave. He stopped at the door when Snape spoke again. "I daresay you will need the energy tomorrow,"

Malfoy frowned, but knew better than to question his Housemaster, especially at this hour of the morning. He left the office without another word.

The next morning he had double Potions, something he would find enjoyable at least. Snape would know why he was tired, and he wouldn't get yelled at and he could sleep between his lessons. He had a free period between Potions and lunch, and could get a couple of hours in then.

He collapsed on his bed again a few minutes later, freeing himself from the cloak and crawling under the covers. He unstopped the bottle and drank half of the contents. His vision began to swim, and he quickly put the bottle back on his bedside table. For one of the few times since June, sleep was coming, and it wasn't being dragged kicking and screaming. Malfoy smiled.

The sixth year looked relatively promising.


	2. Monday, September 5th

Malfoy walked into Potions the next morning feeling refreshed. Breakfast had gone quickly – it included Pansy randomly turning into an Alsatian, but he presumed the Gryffindors had something to do with that – and he was extremely grateful for Snape's potion the night before. However, he got an even greater shock when who should be sat next to Granger in the dungeon but Harry Potter. Malfoy felt his jaw physically drop, and he wasn't sure how he managed to make it to his seat without collapsing of shock.

"Right, class," Snape began pleasantly. "Today we'll be making death potions. Anybody know how to make them?"

Malfoy nearly fell off his seat in shock when Potter's hand went shooting up into the air. And, next to him, Granger looked as though she hadn't a clue. Snape smiled benignly at Potter, and Malfoy couldn't help but think that the expression wouldn't have looked more out of place on a Bowtruckle. He put his own hand up.

"Sir, isn't it illegal to make death potions at our age?" he asked suspiciously.

"Of course it is," Snape said cheerfully. Malfoy gaped at him, but said nothing. "Now, I want you to get into pairs, and start mixing,"

Malfoy stared dumbly at his teacher, only snapping out of his trance when someone prodded his shoulder. He turned to see Zabini standing beside him. He frowned.

"Zabini? But you're not doing Potions," he said, now completely bewildered. But Zabini just kept on prodding him. Malfoy squirmed, trying to shift out of the way but just backing into something soft and warm. He turned to see what it was and found himself staring at the pillow on his bed. He lay face down for a while before Zabini prodded him again.

"Draco, are you getting up today?" he asked bluntly.

"Not if Pansy's going to turn into a dog at breakfast," he grumbled into the pillow. He pulled himself out of the awkward position and stared up at Zabini's concerned face.

"Are you all right? You sound a bit mad," he said uncertainly.

"I'm fine," Malfoy grimaced. "Just a weird dream,"

He glanced over the room to where someone else was emerging from a bed. He gasped in shock when Potter's head popped out from beneath the blankets.

"Hello Draco!" he said brightly. "You'd better hurry up, we don't want to be late for Charms!"

"I'm still dreaming, aren't I?" he said wearily. Harry nodded happily.

"Go through that door," he said, pointing to a trapdoor Malfoy had never noticed before – then he kicked himself for thinking it, because of course he had never noticed it, it didn't exist. He obeyed, and opened the door.

It appeared to open up onto the deck of a ship. He knelt down beside it, and peered down upon the crew. It seemed to be a Muggle pirate ship, judging by the length and equipment on board the ship. He was leaning in for a closer look when Zabini pushed him in. He toppled down through the sky and landed with a thump on the deck. One of the pirates glanced down at him.

"Hello. New recruit? Excellent," he said blandly, returning to his job. Malfoy stood up and leant over the side. They appeared to be navigating their way through rock, shipwrecks, giant squids, and mermaids with chests so overly-developed they would have been a danger to navigation in themselves. He was about to ask the captain where he was, when the ship disappeared beneath him and he fell into the sea. He sank immediately, and started when his feet hit the bottom sooner than expected. He pushed up hard, and surfaced. Only he wasn't in the sea.

He was in the Prefect's bathroom. Thick white foam surrounded him, and he groaned. This dream seemed never-ending. He hoisted himself out of the bath and suddenly groaned again, though this time out of pure frustration.

He had no clothes.

He stormed out of the bathroom in a rage, his nudity on full display for everyone to see. It was morning, and apparently everyone was just getting up. He flew down into the dungeons in a rage and flung himself down on his bed. Zabini followed him in moments later.

"I'm not going to ask why you're going around buck naked, but you might want to get up. We're going up to breakfast in five minutes, and I'd prefer it if you were clothed this time,"

"Don't try it, Blaise," Malfoy snarled into his pillow.

"Try what?" his housemate asked puzzled.

"I'm still asleep," Malfoy snapped irritably.

"No, you're not,"

"Yes, I am," Malfoy retorted childishly. "Prove that I'm not,"

Zabini shrugged and marched up to him, pinching him hard on his left thigh. Malfoy yelped and twisted over to protect his thigh. He then flushed, realising that he had just practically thrust his manhood at Zabini, and that he was actually awake – which meant everybody saw him running naked through the corridors.

"Oh fucking hell…" he moaned. "What the fuck was I doing in the prefect's bathroom at this time in the morning with no clothes?"

"Don't know, don't care. Just get dressed and pretend it was you identical good twin or something," Zabini suggested. "We'll be waiting for you in the common room,"

Malfoy's mouth dropped open as he stepped into the Potions classroom an hour later. He pinched himself, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, but no – Harry Potter was in his class. He gaped at the black haired boy until someone bumped into him from behind, breaking his gaze. He was about to whirl around in a temper but Snape strode past him and he thought better of it. Trying not to stare at Potter, he sat down in an empty seat, and attempted to focus on the task in hand – Potions.

Snape tapped the blackboard with his wand and white chalk words spread across them, instructing them of the lesson's objectives.

"As you can see, today we will be going over the requirements for NEWT level Potions. I would expect you all to take notes – get out parchment and a quill," he said quietly, and they all obeyed, even Potter. Malfoy bent his head over his parchment and, glad that he had clothes on started to write what Snape was dictating.

Three and a half hours later Malfoy was soaring above the Quidditch pitch, most of his vexations stranded far below him on the ground. How he had managed to get through Charms was beyond him, but he wasn't pleased to find that he shared pretty much every single lesson with Potter. The sixth year had a completely different timetable to the lower years – sessions were an hour and a half long each, except for the one straight after lunch, which was half an hour. For Malfoy, this session was when he had the five extra subjects – Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Divination, Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. This part of the day was when he didn't always have to see Potter – since he was advanced in Arithmancy and Potter was not, they were in two separate classes. The same applied for Divination, but the opposite way around. Today he had Muggle Studies, and he had a feeling he would fall asleep. The only reason he complied to attending these extra subjects was because they would help in his career as an Auror.

He watched as small first years clumped together nervously on their first day, terrified of their new school. He sneered. Surely he hadn't been that pathetic? No, probably not. They got more pathetic every year.

Resisting the temptation to go over and take House points from them, he turned him broom around and swept upwards. His old Nimbus was having a bit of trouble keeping up these days; Potter's was far better. He would have to get a new one soon.

There were few clouds today and he dodged those that did exist so as to stay dry. He sped up, the wind whipping around his face as he went further up. When satisfied he was high enough, Malfoy pulled level and paused, looking down on the castle.

It was a magnificent place, there was no arguing that, but Malfoy couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as he stared at the fortress. He wrinkled his face up in confusion, but decided not to dwell on it. Tearing his gaze away from the building, he dropped the handle of his broom downwards. He followed it, speeding down towards the ground, the wind catching him again, stinging his eyes. The ground came closer at an alarming rate, zooming up at him like the Knight Bus. He thought he probably heard a scream, as someone noticed him, but ignored it. He burst into the stadium, still hurtling towards the grass. He waited until he was practically on the ground before acting.

Suddenly he yanked the handle up as hard as he could. The broom struggled to get level, but managed it, his toes just skimming the grass. He grinned to himself and pulled upwards. Flying gave him a sense of freedom he got nowhere else – it was as though he was floating away from all his troubles. He used the momentum gained to complete a lap of the stadium, and was about to begin another when a voice nearly startled him off his broom.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Weasley yelled up at him. He stopped and stared down at the redhead.

"What do you want, Weasel?" he snapped.

"We've got the pitch booked for practice, so get lost!" Weasley shouted.

"Or you'll what?" Malfoy sneered. He was in no mood to be bossed around by a stupidly pathetic Weasley. But he grimaced as the rest of the Gryffindor team trouped out onto the pitch. At the head of them was Potter, and he was carrying the ball box between himself and one of the Beaters – Kirke, he thought his name was. The only one who had left the previous year had been Johnson, and they didn't appear to have replaced her yet.

Potter looked up and noticed Malfoy, his eyes narrowing. Weasley ran up to him and they started whispering urgently. Malfoy shrugged and continued his laps.

Suddenly a blur of red and gold shot past him, nearly knocking him off his broom. He yelped and pulled backwards in an effort to right himself. He heard a faint whoosh behind him to his left, and waited a few seconds before slipping sideways to hang off his broom upside down and directed the broom away from where he had just been. Potter swept past him; a move he knew would have probably knocked him off his broom had he not moved. He pulled himself upright and glared at the Gryffindor Seeker, and new Captain.

"Are you trying to kill me, Potter?" he said angrily. Potter smirked, which only added to Malfoy's fury – _he_ was the one who smirked when he couldn't think of anything to say.

"No," the Gryffindor replied smoothly. "Just trying to get you off the pitch during our time,"

Malfoy was about to protest when he was reminded of his fatigue. He had planned to go to sleep at lunch, he remembered now, and had completely forgotten about his plan.

"Fine then," he muttered, and turned away, sweeping down in a graceful arc to the ground.

"Thanks!" Potter called from above him. He growled and ignored him, going straight to the changing rooms to have a shower and get changed. Why he had bothered to get into his Quidditch robes was beyond him.

He stepped under one of the showerheads in the changing rooms two minutes later, the cold water running down his naked body. He blushed again, reminded of his antics this morning. Luckily, nobody had commented on it – to his face, at least – but he was still at a loss as to why he had been in the Prefect's bathroom in the early morning with no clothes.

He rolled his neck, wincing as it cracked loudly. The magic water splashed over his face, messing up his hair further. He stepped out from under the shower and grabbed his wand from his robes, stepping back under the showerhead. The water came back on again, and he pointed his wand at himself.

"Scourgify," he murmured. Soapsuds seemingly erupted in random places over his skin, spreading to cover his body in a rich lather. He waited a moment for the water to just wash it away, then left the showers, shaking his head in an attempt to get the worst of the water off. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, and walked around the corner, out of the shower area and into the changing area. He looked up and yelped.

"Shitting hell, Potter, you scared the fuck out of me!" he said without thinking, then grimaced at the ratio of swear words to non-swear words in the sentence. "Couldn't you have waited until I'd finished in the shower before coming in?" he snapped irritably. Potter just shrugged.

"I just came to get my wand. Sorry, I didn't know you were still here," he said calmly. He carried on rummaging in his robes for a while, Malfoy just staring at him. After a while he straightened, frowning at the Slytherin.

"Have you seen my wand?" he asked suspiciously. Malfoy shook his head, and held out his own wand.

"Accio wand," he said clearly. For a few second nothing happened, then suddenly something flew into the changing rooms form outside and thwacked him on the back of the head. He stepped forward, clutching the site of impact. Potter's wand fell to the floor beside him.

"Ouch," he growled.

"Sorry," Potter apologised.

"Next time, actually bring it before deciding to accuse me of stealing it," he seethed. "Idiot,"

"Get lost, Malfoy,"

"I would, if I could get dressed, which you're making practically impossible by being here. Or would you not mind if I presented my naked self before you?" he pointed out. Potter smirked again, and Malfoy felt a stab of annoyance hit his spine.

"No, you're all right. I saw enough this morning,"

With that, Potter stalked out of the room, leaving Malfoy to blush furiously in the changing rooms.

"Muggles have very different methods of communication. They used to write letters – like we do, only they are delivered by something called a 'postman' – but few do nowadays. In the modern day, they all use contraptions called 'telephones'. These send your voice as a digital signal to someone using another telephone, and you can thus have conversations over long distances. Mobile phones work in the same way, but you can move around with them. You can also send things called 'text messages' with mobile phones. These are like letters but are sent as digital signals,"

Malfoy jerked awake as his head started drooping again. He glanced wearily over the class. The way the Muggle Studies classes were divided was absurd – those in the Beginner group were those who had not taken the subject for OWLs. This included those who were Muggle-born or lived with them, so included Potter – who, for some reason, wasn't there. Of course, there were a few purebloods, like himself, who hadn't a clue about the way Muggles lived, and were astounded to find out how they managed without magic. Unfortunately, Malfoy already knew most things about Muggles, so had no need to listen. He growled gently, startling Granger slightly. She stared at him and he smirked back.

"Do me a favour, Granger," he drawled. "And wake me at the end,"

When Malfoy stepped into the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom after Muggle Studies (he had managed to get a good half hour's sleep), his lip immediately curled at the sight of the new teacher. Having got rid of Umbridge the previous year, Malfoy had known there would be another Defence teacher, but hadn't had the common sense to pay attention at the feast to find out who it would be. He found a seat at the back of the room and sat down heavily, still tired, and surveyed this new teacher.

She was smaller than Malfoy. But then, most people were, since he had had a growth spurt over the summer and was now pushing six-foot. She looked past her prime, and wrinkles were threatening to deepen on her forehead and around her eyes. Her hair was a dodgy brown-blond and hung in lank strands around her square-jawed face. She wore frumpy robes that accentuated her hunched figure, and seemed everything but authoritative. She waited until relative silence had settled upon the class then tapped the blackboard with her wand. The chalk leapt from its place and scrawled 'Professor Maude' over the surface.

"Good afternoon class," she said. Her voice was quite low and boring. "My name is Professor Maude," she indicated to the board. "Today we will be studying -"

She was stopped mid-sentence by the door opening with a bang and Potter standing in the doorway, looking completely uninterested.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, not looking at all repentant.

"Sit down," Maude said impatiently. "As I was saying, today we will studying protection spells. Get out your books, quills and wands."

There was a general murmur of curiosity as the class rummaged in their bags for equipment. They hadn't ever been told to have both writing equipment and wands at the ready before. Potter strode across the room and took a seat opposite Malfoy, sitting down abruptly, looking as bored as hell, and slammed his wand down on the desk. To be frank, he looked exhausted.

"Snape give you hell again?" Malfoy heard Granger ask him sympathetically from where she was sat on the other side of the Gryffindor.

"Yeah. It's getting worse; I just can't seem to block it all out. I am trying, I swear I am, but Snape just makes it seem so easy. I bet he loves seeing me like that, writhing on the floor as he watches it all," Potter said bitterly.

"I'm sure he's doing everything he can to help you Harry," Granger said firmly. "You'll just have to try harder. And if it still doesn't work, maybe you should go see Professor Dumbledore. He needs to know if it's not working,"

"OK. I'm just sick of hearing the screams every time,"

"I know. But Snape's only doing what Voldemort would, and you know that. He's not just doing it to hurt you, he's trying to help you,"

"I hate the way he looks at me. He still thinks I'm not trying. Yeah, right, as if what happened to Sirius wasn't enough, now he's saying I haven't learnt anything…"

"Harry it's just the way he is. He probably thinks it'll make you practise more if you feel guilty,"

"I hate it when he looks into my memories. I hate that he can see all my thought, everything that I don't want him to see. I hate that he can watch my parents as they die,"

Malfoy gasped at this, and had to quickly turn it into a cough as Potter cast him a suspicious glare. Luckily, he was rescued by Maude, who came waddling over.

"Are you ready to begin?" she asked. The three of them nodded. "Good. Then turn to page twenty-three,"

Malfoy scowled at the Gryffindors and opened his textbook to twenty-three – _Patronus Charm_.

"Now, today we will be looking at Patronus Charms. Now, wands out everybody, and practise the incantation for a few minutes – _Expecto Patronum_. I'll stop you soon, and we can all see how far you've got. Now, it's a very hard charm, and I doubt many of you will be able to do it, so I won't be expecting much. But for those of you who can manage it, I'll be bringing in a pretend Dementor for you to have a go on, if you feel up to it. Now, you can either work in pairs or by yourself, whichever you prefer,"

Malfoy wondered vaguely what the pretend Dementor would be, but didn't dwell on it. He hardly needed to practise. Instead, he leaned back on his chair, and gazed up at the ceiling until Maude called them to a halt.

"Now, I'm going to ask you to come up one at a time and perform the charm. We'll start with Mr. Weasley,"

Weasley stepped up to the front.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" he said loudly. A sheep plopped out of the end of his wand and took a few wobbly steps before falling over and disappearing. Malfoy closed his eyes, already bored. He was starting to doze when Maude called Potter's name. He snapped awake, interested in what the Gryffindor might produce.

As he spoke the spell, a bright stag erupted from his wand. It galloped around the room magnificently to come to a halt beside his owner. Maude was astounded.

"Fantastic!"

Potter strode almost angrily back over to his seat, and the stag slowly faded.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Maude called. Malfoy climbed to his feet, his joints cracking as he stood and lazily moved to the front of the room. He held out his wand – twelve inches of ebony and phoenix tail feather – and said the incantation clearly. He didn't bother thinking of 'happy thoughts' – he had no need.

A massive phoenix burst from the end of his wand with a tremendous shriek that caused most of the students to clap their hands over their ears. The room shook with the power within the phoenix Patronus, and there was an odd silvery light pulsating form the phoenix's heart. He allowed his phoenix to hover in the air for a while before calling him back. He disappeared with a quieter shriek, leaving the class and Maude staring at him, aghast.

"Right… well…those who did manage to produce a Patronus, please follow me. The rest of you stay here," Maude said, clearly slightly shaken. Only about half a dozen of them had been able to produce a proper Patronus – most had only managed a silvery wisp – and they strode down the corridor quickly, only stopping when they came to a door near the dungeons.

"Now, in here is an imitation of a Dementor. We'll all go in at once, and then we'll go into the separate room two at a time to see if you can repel the Dementor. I will be on hand at all times if you fail," she said firmly. They all nodded in consent, and she pushed the door open.

It was quite dark, and, Malfoy noticed, quite small. They closed the door behind themselves and Maude pulled Weasley and Granger towards a second door.

"You two first," she said quietly.

The two people stepped into the other room and closed the door behind them. Two minutes later they emerged. Weasley looked a bit white, but they didn't look particularly worse for wear. Next to go in were Parvati Patil and that Hufflepuff Macmillan. They also came out looking a bit ill but otherwise fine.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, if you please. I should think neither of you will have any trouble,"

Potter shot Malfoy a death glare, as if to say 'I don't trust you'. Malfoy ignored him and strode through the door.

It was pitch black as soon as Potter closed the door behind them, and silent.

"Where is it?" whispered Potter, and Malfoy jumped as Potter's voice sounded right behind his ear.

"I don't know. I can't sense it," he whispered back. Suddenly an icy cold feeling spread up his left leg. "It's to our left," he said quickly. But then a similar feeling crept up his right hand.

"Shit, there's more than one!" Potter cried. Malfoy's throat tightened.

"Don't panic, it'll be fine. We can handle them," he said, tried to sound encouraging. But he felt something fall down behind him, followed by a thump, and guessed that Potter must have fainted.

"Lumos," he muttered, and his wand lit up so he could see Potter. But instead of being still, he was writhing upon the floor, looking as if in extreme pain. He was yelling, too.

"Don't kill her, please, leave her alone, let her live, don't kill her!" he cried. Malfoy froze. He could feel the Dementors closing in on him, could hear their rattling breath, but he was transfixed, horrified by Potter's pleas. Suddenly they changed.

"Sirius! No, NO! You can't die, leave him alone you bitch, Sirius I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, it's all my fault, I shouldn't have gone, I killed you…"

A feeling Malfoy wasn't used to was welling up inside him, starting in the bottom of his stomach and working its way up his chest. He was furious at these creatures; angry because they were making Potter feel this way, angry because he could feel them inside his head, making him remember things he'd rather not. Making him remember the pleas he himself had cried out to his father that summer. But Malfoy had more control than that, and he was not going to allow some Dark creature to overcome him. He whirled around, wand outstretched.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" he roared. His phoenix exploded from his wand in a dazzling light, and by the illumination Malfoy could see at least twenty Dementors closing in on them. He crouched down beside Potter and lifted him, supporting him with one arm around his waist and Potter's arm over his shoulder. He stumbled over to the door, Potter still twitching against him as he got further away from the Dementors. He left his phoenix to keep the creatures at bay while he struggled with the door. It suddenly came free with a crack and he fell through it, just managing to keep a hold of Potter as they stepped into the other room.

Many gasps came from the others there as they came out, and Malfoy gently laid Potter down on the ground. Weasley and Granger took the Gryffindor off him with more force than necessary. Weasley was shaking with fury. He drew his fist back and slammed it into Malfoy's jaw. The Slytherin grunted and staggered backwards into the wall.

"What did you do to him?" Weasley yelled. He grabbed Malfoy's shoulders and threw him against the wall.

"I did nothing. He's like that because he just suffered a Dementor attack orchestrated by at least twenty Dementors," Malfoy snarled, his faces inches from Weasley's.

"Hardly likely. There was only one in there," Weasley snapped.

"Fine, don't believe me. Just ask him when he wakes up," Malfoy said simply. Weasley slowly let go of him and, glaring at him, went over to Potter still lying unconscious on the floor. Malfoy took a few deep breaths before looking down at his wand. It was still grasped in his hand. Suddenly the fury came flying back again, and he launched himself at Maude, wand pressed into her neck.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WERE PLAYING AT? YOU LET US PRACTISE ON IMAGOES? HOW STUPID DO YOU GET? THEY COULD HAVE KISSED HIM, AND HE WOULD BE AS GOOD AS DEAD! DID YOU CONSIDER WHAT THEY MIGHT DO? YOU SHOULD BE SACKED, AND I HOPE YOU ARE – YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM!" he bellowed, his wand pressing even further into her neck. He was about to cast a curse when Granger grabbed his arm

"Don't, Malfoy. You're right, she should be sacked, she doesn't deserve to stay here after that, but don't curse her. You'll just get into trouble. Let the Headmaster deal with this," she said quietly. Malfoy was literally pouring off magic he was so enraged. He glared at Maude for a few more seconds before yanking his wand away and storming out of the room.

He was sat up on the top of one of the top most towers when somebody finally found him. He had flown up there on his broom, and had been sat there for at least three hours before somebody turned up. It was Potter.

"Are you OK? Hermione and Ron said you were going to curse Maude," he asked quietly as he set down on the roof, dismounting from his broom and sitting down beside Malfoy.

"I'm fine, are you?" he asked brusquely. Potter nodded.

"I just wasn't ready. They had a different effect to Dementors – what were they?"

"They were Imagoes. Creatures not dissimilar to Boggarts. They can transform at will to any form they choose, but their powers can be harnessed to an extent. That's what Maude did – she cast a spell to turn them into Dementors. But they would probably been more powerful than Dementors, and retained an element of free will, meaning they could sense when you came in, they could sense your weakness," Malfoy said bluntly. Potter didn't retaliate – he knew Malfoy was right. "They adapted themselves as well as they could within reason, and multiplied. It took a powerful Patronus to get rid of them,"

"How do they affect you?" Potter suddenly whispered.

"I remember my father beating me, I remember being forced to watch as he killed people, I remember meeting the Dark Lord. I remember things I wouldn't," he said shortly, a bit surprised that Potter would ask. "Why?"

"I just wondered if it was anything like what I hear," he said miserably.

"And what do you hear?"

"I hear my mother screaming, begging for mercy as Voldemort kills her,"

"The Imagoes would have made it worse, I bet,"

Potter gazed at Malfoy in amazement. For once, he wasn't being pitied. For once, someone who knew what he was going through was talking to him as an adult.

"Why did you not collapse too?"

"I've learnt to force it down. I've got a Legilimens for a father, and I've had Imperius used on me so many times I don't even need to try to throw it off. I've been learning the Patronus Charm among other protection spells since I was six. It gets to you,"

"I know. I've been learning since the third year, when the Dementors were around school. Lupin was teaching me,"

"I know. You shot one at me, remember?"

"Yes. If I'm right, you were trying to make me fall off my broom,"

"Yes. You're right,"

"Do you know why my Patronus takes the form of a stag?"

"No,"

"It's my father. He used to be an Animagus. His form was a stag. Why does yours become a phoenix?"

"Because when I was six, my father beat me so badly that I was dying. That phoenix of the Headmaster came to the Manor and cried for me," Malfoy laughed, a harsh sound that was not filled with mirth. "How humiliating, that the only person to cry for me would be a bird,"

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The sun was setting, bringing oranges, purples and pinks together to fade as a dark blue on the horizon. Potter lay back to gaze up at the stars.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked the Slytherin. Malfoy copied him and lay down.

"Why are you asking me this?" he countered. Potter shrugged.

"I hardly expected you to respond in a civil way,"

"You've judged me, Potter. Bad move,"

"Yeah, like I haven't the grounds to suspect you," Potter snapped.

"I never said you didn't. But people change, me included. I'm not the Malfoy you met on the train on the first day of the first year," Potter made a disbelieving noise. "Neither are you the same Potter I confronted. We've both changed, whether we like it or not. We've both matured. You've seen death. I've been through more this last summer than you could know,"

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No. But I'll show you,"

He sat up and put his hand on his left forearm.

"Are you sure you want to see?" he asked. Potter had a terrible sense of foreboding, but nodded. Malfoy rolled up his sleeve and Potter paled.

It was obvious where the Dark Mark had been branded onto the skin. However, it looked as though Malfoy had taken a knife to his arm and cut it out. The skin was mangled and bloody, and didn't seem to fit in the space it had. It was a mess.

"When did that happen?" Potter asked, horrified.

"Over the summer. I didn't want it. I refused to co-operate, so my father used Crucio on me until I hadn't the strength left to defy him. Then the Dark Lord came, and branded me as his own. As soon as I had the opportunity I cut it out. I've been disowned, I've brought shame upon the Malfoy name. I stayed in Diagon Alley for the last week of the holidays,"

"I didn't see you,"

"How do you mean?"

"I spent most of the holidays in Diagon Alley too. As soon as I turned sixteen I left the Dursleys. In the Muggle world you can leave home without consent once you're sixteen – I don't know if it's the same for wizards,"

"No, you probably didn't see me. I had a disguise on. A very powerful one, so my father wouldn't be able to find me. I didn't see you either, but that was probably just coincidence,"

"Actually, no," Potter said shiftily, suddenly looking very embarrassed. "Dumbledore put a spell on me before I left the school last year. It stops any Death Eater recognising me or even seeing me. You must have been included in the spell because of your arm," he said sheepishly. Malfoy frowned.

"But I can see you now," he said, confused.

"Yeah, probably because we're within Hogwarts, and the spell isn't needed any more. Dumbledore hasn't said he's taken it off, but it wouldn't surprise me if he had,"

Malfoy let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. Potter glanced at his still form.

"Thanks, Malfoy," he said quietly. Malfoy opened his eyes in confusion.

"For what?"

"You saved my life,"

"Coincidence. I happened to be saving my own at the same time," he replied, closing his eyes again. Potter smiled.

"Sorry about earlier. You know, on the Quidditch pitch,"

"Why are you sorry?" Malfoy murmured. He was falling asleep.

"Because I could have hurt you. I could have knocked you off your broom,"

"Yeah, but you didn't," Malfoy mumbled. "Drop it,"

He rolled over onto his side. Potter gazed up at the stars again.

"Where do you reckon he is now?"

Silence.

"Malfoy?"

He was asleep.

Potter groaned. He prodded Malfoy's shoulder, but he didn't wake. It suddenly occurred to him that the Slytherin hadn't been getting much sleep, and contemplated the best way of getting him down. He decided to levitate Malfoy through the air whilst slowly descending on his broom, Malfoy's own in his hand. This worked to an extent, and he managed to set down outside the Entrance Hall, but he now had the problem of getting Malfoy to the Slytherin dorms. He deposited his Firebolt in the corner and began making his way to the dungeons.

To his chagrin, he didn't meet a single person the whole way. Luckily though, he had quite a good memory, and his trip here in the second year was still imbedded into his mind. He came to a dead end, and hoped it was the correct stretch of wall. He cleared his throat nervously and spoke to the wall.

"I have brought Draco Malfoy. He's asleep and I didn't want to wake him,"

Immediately the wall flew open. Potter gave a small yelp and leapt backwards. Snape was standing in the doorway, looking nothing less than furious.

"What the hell have you been doing with him, Potter!" he shouted. Potter cringed and stepped away from the Potions Master. Snape whipped out his own wand and transferred the spell.

"We were just talking, sir," Potter said quietly. Snape sneered.

"I shall be confirming that tale with Mr. Malfoy once he wakes up," he turned and levitated his student in front of him, walking across the Slytherin common room. "Oh, and fifty points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew," he said as he crossed the room, not even looking back, the wall closing in Potter's fuming face.

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OK... I can see on my stats that after twelve hours of being posted, I already had 58 hits for these first two chapters, but only one review. I can't understand why people can be bothered to read stuff than are too lazy to review it. Please, just takea minute or two to review and tell me what's good/bad. It really helps and would mean the world to me.

smokey2307

aka Lloyd the amoeba


	3. Tuesday, September 6th

Malfoy jolted awake, his own screams still ringing in his head. He had dreamt of the summer again, and groaned as he rolled over. He lay motionless for five minutes, trying to get back to sleep, and when it didn't come growled and rolled out of bed. He landed with a thump and stood up, his back cracking loudly.

He staggered through into the common room and was surprised to see that it was completely empty. He glanced at the clock above the fireplace and yelped. It was ten o'clock. He turned quickly to run back into his dorm but Snape blocked his path.

"Glad you finally decided to wake up. The Headmaster wants to see you half past ten. I advise that you get dressed. You have been excused from lessons this morning," he said shortly and disappeared through the wall to go teach. Malfoy groaned in frustration and continued his way to the dorm to have a shower and get dressed. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting.

"Good morning, Draco," Dumbledore said warmly as Malfoy sat down opposite him half an hour later. "I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, thank you sir," Malfoy replied tightly.

"Would you like a sherbet lemon?" the old man offered him a yellow sweet.

"No thank you, sir,"

"Am I correct in assuming you would like to know why you are here?" the Headmaster asked with a sigh.

"I think I already know," Malfoy replied. "I threatened a teacher,"

"Yes, you did," Dumbledore said heavily. "And do you know what the punishment is?"

"No, and I don't really care. She endangered the lives of six students. Not that I particularly care about the Gryffindors, but one of those lives was my own," he said bluntly. "I don't feel the slightest bit of remorse for what I did – or what I would have done had Granger not stopped me. I said she deserves to be sacked, and I wasn't kidding. I don't care what you do to me,"

"Draco, what Professor Maude did was not acceptable. But that does not excuse what you did. If you provide Professor Maude with a full written apology, I will be willing to drop most of your punishments,"

"I've said, I don't care,"

"But Draco, you schooling career is at stake,"

"I don't care,"

"Draco, if you are expelled now, you will never -"

"I SAID I DON'T CARE!" Malfoy yelled. He wasn't aware of standing up, but he was on his feet, leaning on the desk, glaring at the old man. "I AM NOT STAYING AT THIS SCHOOL IF SHE IS!"

"Draco…" Dumbledore said in a warning tone. "Do not make this worse for yourself. You are lucky as it is – had Miss Granger not stopped you, you could have been sentenced to life in Azkaban,"

"I DON'T CARE!"

"Then if you are unwilling to co-operate the full punishment will have to be forced upon you. A month of detentions with myself, banned from Quidditch for the rest of the season, a personal curfew of eight o'clock, no Hogsmeade visits, your parents will be informed, and you will face a trial at the Ministry in three days time. Threatening a teacher is a serious offence, Mr. Malfoy, but I can only help you if you will help yourself. I will ask you one last time. Will you apologise?" he snapped.

"No," Malfoy said stubbornly.

"Then I would request that you retire to your common room and wait there until afternoon lessons commence. An elf will bring you some lunch. Good day, Mr. Malfoy,"

Malfoy didn't move.

"Am I to deduce from this," he said slowly, "that no enquiry is going to be made concerning her actions?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. You are. She is a teacher, and her judgement will be valued higher than yours will. I believe I appointed Professor Maude as Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, not you. She will teach you as she sees fit. Now, she does not teach you again until Thursday. I am sure that if you -"

"YOU CAN'T LET HER GET AWAY WITH THIS!" Malfoy roared, silencing Dumbledore mid-sentence. "IF NOT FOR ME, FOR POTTER!"

"Harry has nothing to do with this,"

"HE HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THIS! I WAS FINE, I CAN RESIST DEMENTOR ATTACKS, BUT THEY AFFECTED HIM WORSE THAN REAL DEMENTORS WOULD HAVE DONE! I WAS FINE, BUT HE WASN'T! THAT WAS THE REASON I THREATENED HER – I HAD BEEN IN NO DANGER MYSELF, BUT SHE COULD HAVE KILLED POTTER!"

"I would prefer it if you didn't shout at me, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said delicately. He jumped as a glass object to the side of him smashed, exploding into a million tiny shards which flew out in all directions. He stared at it for a moment before looking back at Malfoy.

His grey eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily. His head was bent. His blond hair was sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and his arms were shaking where he was leant on the desk. It looked as though he would collapse any moment. There was a knock at the door and it opened, the person on the other side not waiting for an answer before entering.

"Headmaster, I need to -" Snape began, but stopped short when he saw Malfoy stood leaning over the desk. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise Mr. Malfoy was still here. I'll be outside," he said quietly. He was about to leave when Malfoy whirled around and the wall next to the door exploded, leaving a hole the size of a Quaffle. Snape paused before continuing, exiting the room. Malfoy was shaking.

"I suggest that you go somewhere you will be calm, Draco," Dumbledore said gently. "It will do you no good to injure yourself or others. Please come back to my office at six o'clock for your detention. Remember, your trial is on Friday,"

Malfoy stormed out of the office. There was a faint luminous sheen rippling across his body, and his robes swirled about him in a way that would normally have required wind. The air around him was cold, and where he stepped the floor froze, melting immediately as he walked away, leaving a burn mark.

The other students knew instantly to let him past as he strode down the corridors. They parted like the sea as he made his way out of the school, and he flew onto the grass like something possessed. His heart was hammering in his ears, and he could feel the magic building up inside him. He knew that soon it was going to be released, and wanted to be in a place where it didn't matter.

He got halfway to the Quidditch pitch before it came out.

It came whipping around his ankles, moving up to surround his body in a whirlwind as he walked. Blue metallic hues sparked before his eyes, and before he knew what was happening everything exploded around him. There was a roaring in his ears for five seconds and he squeezed his eyes shut. When it stopped, he opened them and looked at the destruction.

He was standing in a crater five metres deep and ten metres wide that he had managed to blow in the ground.

"Whoops,"

"Malfoy?"

Malfoy looked up to find the owner of the voice. Snape was peering down at him from the lip of the crater.

"Yes?"

"Would you care to explain why you are standing in a hole in the middle of the grounds?"

"No, I wouldn't," Malfoy retorted. He climbed up the side of the crater and marched straight past Snape, his head held high. The Potions Master gaped at the impudent boy as he strode towards the Quidditch pitch, pretending as though nothing had happened.

Potter yanked the handle sharply to the left and the Firebolt hauled around, his feet scuffing the stands as he stopped slamming into them. He shot straight up and levelled of as he reached the height of the goalposts. He glanced at the opposite end and gasped.

Malfoy was standing at the top of the teacher's tower, staring blankly down at the ground. He slowly raised his head to look Potter straight in the eye. They stared at each other for a good minute. Potter saw Malfoy's lips moving, but didn't know what he had said – but the thought was knocked out of his head as Malfoy stepped off the top of the tower.

"No!" he yelled, and shot forwards. Malfoy fell quickly through the air, his robes billowing out. Potter zoomed forwards, but he knew he wouldn't reach Malfoy in time The Slytherin was going to hit the ground, probably break about fifty bones in the process.

Suddenly something shot through the air and hit Malfoy, taking him with it. Potter pulled up, and stared at Malfoy.

He was a ten feet from him, a bit higher, perched on a brand new broom. The handle was pure black, and the tail was an odd silvery white colour.

"Ebony and silver birch," Malfoy said. "Nice, isn't it? It's the latest Volas model. Just got it this morning. Thought I'd try it out. Want a game?"

"Go on then,"

Malfoy pulled a golf ball out of his pocket and cast a spell on it. It shot out of his hand, and Potter followed it closely. They began an intricate dance over the pitch in pursuit of the ball, dodging each other as they both sought the same goal. Malfoy's new broom had a slight advantage over Potter's, turning faster and moving more smoothly, but Potter was still giving him a run for his money.

Malfoy suddenly shot upwards, and Potter whipped his head around to find him. Malfoy hurtled past him, brushing his side, nearly knocking him off course. Then they began again, weaving about each other; fingers grasping the air as the makeshift Snitch escaped their attempts. Elbows banged, hands collided, and more than once Malfoy's head connected with Potter.

Potter suddenly focussed his inner magic on the broom carrying him, and felt the wood grow warm beneath his fingers. His velocity increased, and he saw the shocked look on Malfoy's face as he lunged forwards for the ball. The distracted Slytherin didn't register Potter swerving suddenly as the ball changed direction, and Potter smacked him in the side, catapulting him into the stands. He crashed into them with a sickening thud that resounded through the air. Potter swore and, Snitch forgotten, shot to the ground to Malfoy.

The Slytherin was trying to stand, shaking violently. Blood was running from a gash under his hair, staining the blond red. A dark bruise was already forming on his left cheek, and he was clutching his side. Blood was seeping between his fingers, and he hissed as he tried to take a step forward. The stands behind him were crushed, broken when Malfoy had slammed into them. Potter dismounted hurriedly and rushed over to him.

"Move your hand," he said urgently. Malfoy shook his hand, gritting his teeth. "Move you hand!"

Potter yanked the strong hand away from his side and blood poured from the wound. Malfoy gasped and his knees gave way, taking Potter with him. The Gryffindor paled at the sight of so much blood.

"Take your robes off,"

"I'm injured, not mad," Malfoy snarled as best he could in his state.

"I said take your robes off," Potter repeated harshly.

Grumbling, Malfoy relented, and awkwardly disentangled himself from his robes. He was wearing a black T-shirt under them, which Potter removed without hesitation.

"Don't look," he said hastily, but it as too late. Malfoy looked down and blanched.

There was a stake stuck in his side. About two inches was sticking out, but he knew that there was more inside him. Potter glanced up furtively.

"Move up against the stands," he ordered. Malfoy shuffled backwards until his back was against the undamaged stands and stared fearfully down at Potter. "Brace yourself," the Gryffindor said quietly. Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

He felt the wood slowly crawling out of his side and gasped in pain. It hurt more than anything… well, expect the Mark perhaps. He opened his eyes and grabbed Potter's shoulder tightly.

"It hurts," he gasped out. Potter grimaced and allowed Malfoy to grip his shoulder as he eased the stake from him. Malfoy let out a small yelp as it exited his side, then a full-on scream as it caught something within his gut. Panting and shaking, he tried to wriggle away from Potter.

"No, it hurts, stop…" he whimpered, but Potter held him firmly in place. Malfoy gripped the dark hair and bit down on the shoulder he had previously been clamped on to help relieve his pain. The Gryffindor took it in his stead, nearly finished removing the wood.

"Just a bit more," he whispered. Tears streaked down Malfoy's cheeks into the robes he had buried his face into and he bit Potter's shoulder even harder.

"I'm going to yank it out the last bit, OK?" Potter murmured in his ear. Malfoy nodded and sank his teeth further into the shoulder. He braced himself and let go of the shoulder as the wood left his body, his mouth opened in a scream that echoed around the pitch. He fell backwards onto the sandy floor, pulling Potter with him, and lay shaking, blood gushing out of his side. Potter hurriedly clamped his hands down on the open wound, trying to stem the flow.

"_HELP_!" he bellowed. He pressed his hands down on Malfoy's side, hushing the writhing Slytherin. Suddenly Dumbledore was beside him, peering at Malfoy over Potter's shoulder.

"Can he be moved?" he asked firmly. Potter shook his head vehemently.

"Get Madame Pomfrey down here now please!" he snapped out. Dumbledore immediately forgave his shortness and was gone with a whirl of his cloak. Potter straddled Malfoy to hold him in place, one hand still pressed to his side, the other resting on his pale, strong chest. "Madame Pomfrey will be here soon," he said gently. "She'll heal you,"

Malfoy bit his lip and nodded, clamping his own hand on top of Potter's at his side.

"Don't let up the pressure," he gasped out. Potter nodded. He removed his left hand from Malfoy's bare chest and used it to wipe the blood from the head wound out of Malfoy's eyes. His skin was cold and feverish, and Potter wished Madame Pomfrey would hurry up.

As if she could read his thoughts, she appeared at his side.

"What in Merlin's name happened here?" she asked.

"He crashed into the stands, and got a chunk of wood in his side,"

"Idiot boy. He should have come straight to me," she snapped, levitating Malfoy in front of her as she began her trip off the pitch up towards the castle. Potter suddenly felt very much like Lockhart, and blushed at the thought, watching as the Slytherin was transported to the Hospital Wing.

Malfoy awoke with a start and a gasp, and sat straight up. He looked around wildly, calming only slightly when he registered that he was in the Hospital Wing, not his father's dungeons.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey said briskly, stepping up to the other side of the bed. She hoisted his shirt up to inspect his side. He craned his neck to look through her arm at the wound. It looked relatively small and un-messy compared to how it had been before, but the gash was still open. She made him hold his shirt in place while she flicked her wand, bandages wrapping around his stomach to cover the hole in his side. He winced slightly as it tightened, but said nothing.

"You may go back to lessons now, Mr. Malfoy. I would suggest that you do nothing physically demanding for the next couple of days. Goodbye,"

She whirled out of the ward in a manner that Snape would be impressed by, leaving Malfoy to awkwardly climb out of the bed and gather his belongings from where they were on the floor beside him.

Malfoy walked into the Transfiguration classroom ten minutes later, the lesson already begun. He murmured an apology and was about to sit down when McGonagall's cutting tones halted him.

"Would you care to explain where you have been for the last five minutes of the lesson, Mr. Malfoy?" she said icily. Malfoy frowned.

"I was in the Hospital Wing, Professor. I just got let out,"

"And what, pray tell, were you doing in the Hospital Wing over lunch?"

"I had an accident whilst playing Quidditch. Potter was there, he can tell you,"

McGonagall turned to Potter, who was sat at the back of the class.

"Is this true, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes Professor. He was injured and Madame Pomfrey took him away,"

"Very well," McGonagall sniffed. "Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy, and get out your wand,"

Growling, Malfoy sat down at the front of the class and pulled his wand from his robes. McGonagall had resumed writing on the blackboard and her back was turned to the class. Malfoy looked over his shoulder at Potter. Something suddenly cracked loudly on his desk and he whipped around, nearly falling off his seat in fright. McGonagall's lips were set in a straight line that belied the anger in her aged eyes.

"You have had the impudence to turn up late to the lesson, and now are refusing to pay attention. Twenty points from Slytherin, Mr Malfoy, and it will be a detention should you step out of line once more this lesson," she grated, then whipped around to continue on the board again.

Cheeks burning, Malfoy hung his head, his hair falling around his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at any of his classmates. It was bad enough being berated by a teacher, but having points deducted for being injured then turning around in class? That was ridiculous. McGonagall had her back up this term, Malfoy knew now, and he wasn't willing to get on her bad side again. So far though he was being attacked from all sides, everyone a critic, and it was beginning to piss him off.

"Today we will be having a look at a branch of Transfiguration that is most often needed in quick-response situations. It involves turning something threatening into something safe, using a general incantation. I believe you all tackled Boggarts in the third year with Professor Lupin?" There was a murmur of general consent. "Good. This spell requires similar thought processes. You have to see the object as something completely harmless as you say the incantation. Observe,"

She flicked her wand and an enormous snarling werewolf appeared before her.

"Innocens,"

She flicked her wand again and it fell to the floor as a plump Labrador puppy, earning a few simpering noises from the girls in the class. She turned back to them.

"I will be requesting you forward one at a time to practise on various hazards behind the curtain," another flick and a barrier was erected at the side of the room, a curtain sectioning part of the room off. "Mr. Malfoy, you first please,"

Malfoy stood and pulled his wand out, sauntering around the curtain to where McGonagall was waiting.

"The incantation please,"

"Innocens,"

"Prepare yourself,"

She stepped back around to the other side of the curtain, and with a pop a massive snake erupted out of the floor. The black coils shimmered under the lights as it slithered towards him. Without thinking, he raised his wand and yelled the first thing that came to mind.

"Deleo!" he cried, stepping backwards and colliding with a chair. The cobra imploded with a sharp crack, leaving a pile of soot behind. McGonagall whipped around the curtain with a furious look on her face.

"I said Innocens only!" she yelled. Malfoy collapsed on the floor and cringed.

"Sorry, I just reacted…"

"And where, pray tell, did you learn that particular curse? Your father?" she sneered. Malfoy's face immediately contorted in anger, fury welling up inside him. Suddenly something grabbed her by the feet and she was flipped over to land her back. Malfoy stared in utter shock, knowing that whilst that had been him, he had no idea how he had done it. He cowered again as McGonagall's explosive face leapt into his field of vision.

"DETENTION, MALFOY, AND FIFTY POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN! NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" she bellowed, looking positively apoplectic. Malfoy scrambled to his feet and pelted from the classroom, followed by flabbergasted stares. He sank to the floor outside in the corridor, slightly out of breath, and cast a single spell.

"Fenestra Mur," he murmured. A rippling square formed before him, one corner attached to the end of his wand. He moved it against the wall of the classroom and it shimmered before him, the stones turning transparent, a one-way mirror. He peered into the classroom.

The Gryffindors had never seen their Housemistress look so angry. They quaked in their seats as she stormed back to the front of the class. She sat behind her desk, fuming, her hands gripping the table in a frightening manner.

"Does anybody here know what Deleo is?" she asked, her voice falsely calm. Granger's hand shot up.

"It's a Dark curse, and close to becoming an Unforgivable," she replied promptly. "It causes the object to deconstruct from the outside in, a metaphorical black hole in the centre of the object. There is usually little or no evidence of the object left,"

"Ten points," McGonagall said absently. "Correct. Would anyone care to hazard a guess as to why we do not teach it here?"

"Because it's a Dark curse?" Potter suggested.

"Precisely. And the only place in this school you will hear Dark curses uttered is in Defence Against The Dark Arts classes, and even then it will be so you know how to defend yourself. But you will not speak them in Transfiguration. Or Charms. Or Potions. Or anywhere else. Is that clear?"

The class consented, muttering, and Malfoy stepped away from the wall. Sighing, he got rid of the charm he had been using and walked down the corridor. He would get his bag later.

"Headmaster, something needs to be done,"

"I know, Minerva. But what?"

"I don't know!" McGonagall cried, throwing her arms up in the air. "Cast a prohibiting spell?"

"I can't do that without parental consent and you know that Lucius will be pleased to hear of his son's progress. Also, Malfoy junior has all but defected. He probably no longer classes himself as a Malfoy,"

"But he's too young. This shouldn't happen for at last another year. Students normally don't start showing until they're at least eighteen!"

"I fear Malfoy has many surprises up his sleeve," Dumbledore said darkly, and took another sip of his hot chocolate. He sighed and looked at the grandfather clock on the wall next to the large oak door. "Alas. It is nearly six o'clock. Malfoy himself will be arriving for his detention soon,"

"From you?" McGonagall asked incredulously. "Albus, you never assign detentions!"

"I believe this is a slightly less than ordinary case. But do not worry. I shall be lenient,"

"I do not worry for him, Albus; I worry for you. There's no telling what he might do in his current state. Are you sure you would not like me to stay?"

"No thank you my dear Professor. I am hoping to help Malfoy, if he at all permits it,"

A sharp knocking on the door alerted them of Malfoy's presence.

"Speak of the devil," McGonagall muttered. She cast a glance to the remainder of her own hot chocolate and drunk it in one go. She place her mug down on the table and stood, wrapped her cloak around her. "I shall lave you to him,"

Albus merely smiled pleasantly, and watched as she opened the door to reveal a very irritated Draco Malfoy.

"Good luck," she murmured to Dumbledore, earning a scowl from Malfoy.

Malfoy entered the room slowly and stood in the middle of the room.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Malfoy. Would you like a hot chocolate?"

"No thank you," Malfoy replied curtly, and stared at the mug in Dumbledore's long hands. It was multicoloured with puppies gallivanting over the sides, barking softly every now and then.

"Now, Mr Malfoy, I have decided, taking recent events into account, to change the plan for your detention. You are going to spend half an hour writing a list,"

"Of what?" Malfoy asked. "Sir?"

"Of everything you feel strongly about. Whether you love it or hate it. Every last thing. You need no write what your feelings towards each situation or object is. It would be helpful, of course, but by no means necessary. You parchment is over there," he indicated to the table by the fire. "I trust you have your own quill?"

Malfoy nodded dumbly, and went to sit down. Everything he felt strongly about. Well, that shouldn't be too difficult. He dug a quill out of his bag and began to write as they came to his head.

_Father_

_Voldemort_

_Quidditch_

_Blood ancestry_

_NEWTs_

_Career (Auror?)_

_Houses_

_Assumptions_

_Pre-judgement_

_Food_

_Harry Potter_

He paused at the last entry. Was that a sensible thing to put? After all, Potter was Dumbledore's Golden Boy; no doubt the Headmaster would simply overlook everything else and skip straight to grilling him on why he hated Potter. He was considering scribbling it out but then changed his mind. It would be stupid. Dumbledore was well aware of the animosity between them; if he didn't write it down, Dumbledore would simply start asking anyway. He continued the list.

Half an hour later, Dumbledore interrupted his though process and called him over to the desk. He passed his parchment to the Headmaster, who perused it intently as though it was the greatest works since Shakespeare. After an interminable five minutes, he spoke.

"For the next twenty minutes I will be attempting to provoke you," he said blandly, surveying Malfoy over the tops of his glasses, his fingers steepled under his chin. "I would like to see how you react to each. Is that understood?"

Malfoy consented.

"Let's start at the beginning then, shall we?" he said cheerfully. "Your father. Lucius."

"Is a sadistic, grovelling, arrogant bastard," Malfoy snarled viciously. Dumbledore held his wand in the air as if testing the humidity then smiled to himself, taking notes.

"Voldemort?"

"Is a hypocritical, delusional, psychotic half-blood,"

Dumbledore held his wand up again, looking amused, then took more notes.

"Blood ancestry?"

"Is a fundamental flaw in the entire wizarding system,"

"Your NEWTs?"

"Are quintessential for the next thing on my list, and I believe, without meaning to be arrogant, that they won't be much trouble,"

"Houses then?"

"Nurture, not nature. All first years generally act the same. By the time you get to fourth year though, you're generally stereotypically set. Slytherins are cunning yet secretive. Gryffindors are brave and reckless. Ravenclaws are intelligent and arrogant. Hufflepuffs are loyal and emotional,"

"Assumptions and pre-judgement?"

"I hate it when people judge me for my name," Malfoy spat.

"Food?"

Malfoy blushed.

"I'm semi-bulimic,"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Harry Potter?"

"Is…" Malfoy frowned. How do you summarise Potter in four words? He floundered for a few seconds before saying the first thing that came to mind. "He's Gryffindor's Malfoy,"

Dumbledore looked mildly confused for a moment, but then understanding set into his face, and he looked so pleased that he probably would have hugged Malfoy had the Slytherin not edged is chair away slightly.

They continued in this fashion until a small gong on Dumbledore's desk sounded, startling Malfoy. The Headmaster smiled benignly and indicated that he could leave.

"I am to come here again tomorrow?

"Oh no, thank you. I believe I have enough to satisfy my mind for next few nights. I will alert you when I request your presence again. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Goodnight,"

Extremely puzzled, Malfoy shrugged and collected his bags before leaving the room. Dumbledore picked up his notes and sifted through them, his gaze stopping on three of the things Malfoy felt strongly about.

_Voldemort_

_Pre-judgement_

_Harry Potter._

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley walked down the corridor, laughing and joking, brooms clutched in their hands.

"…the look on her face! That was brilliant!" Ron said enthusiastically. "I swear she was going to faint!"

"Don't make me feel any worse!" Harry groaned good-naturedly. "At least she's OK,"

"Yeah, I suppose. But jeez, Harry, you nearly gave her a coronary!"

Harry grinned. During the practice he had decided on impulse to shoot towards Katie at such a speed that she was nearly knocked off her broom. The tactic worked. She dropped the Quaffle in a desperate bid to escape the demented Seeker.

"Hey, stop a second," Harry said suddenly, bending down to pick up a small black book from the floor. He turned it over in his hands, looking for a name. There wasn't one.

"Have a look inside," Ron suggested. Harry opened it, and flicked through it – but there was only one piece of writing, on the last page. He read it out.

"'Cat 85 is the epitome of my life' I wonder what Cat 85 is?"

"Best to ask Hermione. Come on, she'll be able to wok out whose it is as well,"

Fifteen minutes later Hermione came back down the stairs with a large tome clutched in her arms.

"It's OK Harry, go up to bed, you've got lessons next morning, I'll work on it tonight,"

Ignoring his protests, she forced him up the stairs. Ron frowned at her.

"What was that about?"

"I have a nasty feeling I know both what Cat 85 is and whose diary this is – and if I'm right, I don't want Harry finding out. In fact, you'd better go too. Please," she asked, leafing through the massive book.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Don't mention this to Harry, please,"

"OK, if you're sure…" Ron said uncertainly. Hermione smiled at him.

"I'm quite sure. Night, Ron,"

---------------------

Sorry this took so long to update, I've just had a hectic past few weeks. Summer holidays at last! Plenty of time now for writing!

Apparently I write like Rowling herself... I wouldn't say so... for starters, I write slash! And I also completely disagree with every last thing at eth end of HBP. She's just ruined it now.

please, REVIEW! I know you're reading this. For those of you who don't knwo how I'm managing that, I'll tell you - there's a hits counter in my login that tells me how many people have bothered to read this stuff. Want to know how many so far?138 as of 16.54, 28 July 2005. And only5 reviews. I know you're there... please review, it give me such a ridiculous, happy feeling when I get an alert saying someone's reviewed... please make my day...

Oh and FireOpal? Please stop terrorozing readers. I quote "...review, you little gits, or I'll set Harry and Draco (my fic, Fire and Water) on you!Mwuhahaha!" And you have a mental age of...?

Kendos and a no-prize for anyone who recognises the Defence teacher.

smokey2307

aka

Lloyd the Amoeba.


	4. Wednesday, September 7th

Yeah, I know this took ages and ages to update, but I've been writing a different fic... this one kind of got forgotten about. But here is it, at last, Wednesday!

* * *

Hermione followed the owner of the diary down the corridor after Potions. She waited until nobody else was around before speaking in a clear voice. 

"Odi et amo," Malfoy turned to face Hermione, an amused expression on his face. She continued. "I love and I hate,"

"Catullus 85," Malfoy said with a brief nod.

"The epitome of your life,"

Malfoy paled and he froze in place. Hermione walked up to him and held out the diary, which he snatched off her.

"Where did you find it?" he hissed, recoiling slightly.

"I didn't, Harry and Ron did," if it was possible, Malfoy's face lost even more colour. "But they didn't understand. And I'm not going to tell them."

"Why not?" Malfoy spat. "Your little buddies know everything else,"

"I'm trusting that you know what you mean. I don't think I understand what that's all about," she pointed to the diary clutched in his Seeker's hands, "but I'm guessing you'll act upon it, rather than brooding like a ten-year-old. If it's important, at least. If it's not, you won't say anything, so there's no reason to tell them. I don't go out of my way to spite you, Malfoy,"

"Why should I trust you?" Malfoy asked sceptically.

"Because you have no other choice."

Malfoy bit his lip. That much was true. But he still didn't understand. Wasn't the Mudblood meant to be going out with the Weasel? But then, why did she not tell him? And what was to stop her running right off now? And why did she not tell Potter?

"I suppose you're right. I don't know if you did tell them, and Obliviating you won't undo what's already done. Well thank you for returning it at least. It wouldn't do to have other people prying in here." He mused. He glanced at Granger and noticed that she was staring at him. "You look gormless like that, close you mouth." He snapped.

"It's just… you thanked me." She said in disbelief. He scowled at her.

"Don't tell anyone or I'll wipe it from your memory," he sneered and stalked down the corridor to Defence.

* * *

"Today we will be starting work on Dark Detectors. Apparently Dark Creatures were a bit too hard for you at this stage –" Maude cast Malfoy a nervous glance and he glared right back. "– so the Headmaster decided we had better look at something a little less intimidating." 

"Miss, there isn't anything in the textbook we've got about Dark Detectors." Granger said as she raised her hand. Malfoy stared at her. The girl had actually read the textbook? He had only opened it once, for the last lesson.

"Indeed. Mr Thomas, would you be kind enough to go to the staffroom and ask anyone who's there to get you the books about Dark Detectors? They'll know what you mean." She made a shooing gesture when Thomas didn't move. "Go on, get going!"

Malfoy watched the boy with detached interest as he wandered out of the room, grumbling. Maude cleared her throat with a sharp cracking noise and drew the class's attention back to her, as they had begun talking as soon as the slight disturbance had taken place. She walked over to the front desk and pulled a white sheet off an object with a rather unnecessary flourish.

It was about the size of a football. The base was flat and there were random spikes sticking out over the sectioned surface. She leant over and pressed a button; there was a whirring and the top opened up, revealing something that looked rather like a cricket ball. She plucked that from the main object and held it in the palm of her hand.

It zoomed out of it and shot straight for Potter.

Malfoy's wand was out before he had time to think, the spell was muttered before Granger had her wand out and the ball destroyed before Potter could yell.

This time, he managed to refrain from yelling at her, but only because Weasley beat him to it.

"Are you trying to get Harry killed?" he bellowed. "That's the second time this week you've nearly hurt him!"

Maude paled and hastily covered the object, at which point Thomas reappeared, arms laden with heavy-looking books. She took them from him and waved her wand. They flew out to each of the students and all opened to page two hundred and three.

"I want you to take notes on the 'Oscillating Sphere'. I want it handing in at the end of the lesson or else you'll have it for homework." She warned, though few people took it seriously. Most got out quills and parchment, wrote the title then started doodling, doing work for other classes, or just chatting. For some unknown reason, Maude didn't seem to realise that nobody was doing any work.

Malfoy looked around. None of his friends were anywhere around, there was just him in this half of the room. And he was hardly likely to start talking to Potter or Granger, and certainly not that Weasley. So he pulled his wand out.

Harry's attention wavered as he noticed the desk Zabini was sat at jerk. Zabini stared at it in shock, obviously trying to comprehend what was happening. Harry looked around but couldn't see anyone messing around. He was about to turn back to Hermione when Maude shrieked as the windows banged open and rain swept into the classroom.

"Goodness! What on earth is happening?" she cried, trying futilely to close the windows.

"It's probably Peeves, Miss." Harry suggested, hit with sudden inspiration. "He's always doing stuff like that."

Maude cast him a fearful glance that clearly said she had no idea what he was talking about but didn't like the sound of it regardless.

"Peeves is the poltergeist," Dean offered. "The other teachers are used to him. The only people he listens to are the Bloody Baron and sometimes Dumbledore."

All of a sudden the windows slammed shut, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. The room fell silent. Looking rather flustered, Maude cast Reparo on the glass and adjusted her robes before turning back to the class.

"Right, well now that Peas has gone, I think you can all –"

She was cut off as her front desk slowly rose about an inch off the ground. Fighting back a grin, Harry pulled out his own wand and joined in with the other person.

Malfoy was shocked, to say the least, when he saw Potter draw his own wand. It wasn't what he had expected the Gryffindor to do. But secretly, he was amused. It would be easier to annoy Maude with two of them doing it.

He flicked his wand under the desk and the tables on the left side of the room suddenly shifted forward a few inches. Catching on, Potter did the same with the right side of the room. They moved the desks gradually closer to the front, much to the amusement of the students and the surprise of the teacher. Malfoy made a few of them snap at her for effect.

By this point the students were standing at the back of the room, giving the desks room to manoeuvre. They closed in around her and were about to start hitting her when she screamed and the door slammed open to reveal a very irate McGonagall.

Malfoy's wand was back in his pocket in a flash, and he saw with relief that Potter was equally astute. The desks stopped flapping at Maude and fell still. The room was silent.

The Deputy Headmistress stormed furiously into the room and with a swish of her wand the desks flew back to their original position. She glowered at the students before turning to Maude.

"What on earth is going on here?" she hissed.

"Peas was interfering with the class." Maude stuttered, still looking warily at the desks as though she expected them to leap at her any moment. Malfoy smirked. With the small amount of wandless magic he had learned over the holiday, he managed to cast a weak Expelliarmus on one desk. It shot away from him (coincidentally straight for Maude) and hit the wall beside her with a crash, splintering into small bits. McGonagall stared at it.

"I'm afraid I haven't a clue what you're talking about." She said sternly.

"But… but they said it was Peas! They said he was a poltergeist!"

"Oh you mean _Peeves_. Well then yes, I suppose it probably was. He does do that sort of thing quite often to new teachers."

Malfoy could have sworn she gave Potter a half-smile. He was shocked. Was she actually advising him to continue? But… wasn't that against the rules?

"Oh and Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy's head snapped up to look at McGonagall.

"Yes?"

"The Headmaster will see you after your lessons in his office."

Ignoring a curious glance from Potter, Malfoy gathered his belongings into his bag as the bell went and left the room, heading off to the Great Hall for lunch.

* * *

"I hate it." He grumbled as his head dropped onto his arms at the Slytherin table. Pansy poked his shoulder. 

"What do you hate?" she asked in a simpering voice. "Is it those Gryffindors again?"

"No," Malfoy snapped, shooing her hand away. "Just everything in general." He contented himself with charming a selection of peas and sweetcorn so that they attacked each other on the barren landscape of his plate.

"You don't hate me, do you?" Pansy sounded hurt. Malfoy sneered at her.

"I hate everyone, Pansy. Don't feel special."

"Fine then! I'll be going!" she responded huffily.

"You do that." Malfoy watched intently as a group of sweetcorns took some peas hostage behind their fort created out of mashed potato. Pretending to be extremely interested in the legion of peas sneaking around the sweetcorn's left flank, he waited impatiently for Pansy to complete her dramatic exit.

"Aren't you going to eat them?" Nott asked once Pansy had gone, indicating t his armies. Malfoy waited until two sweetcorn successfully lured a bunch of peas into a puddle of gravy and drowned them before answering.

"No. I don't like sweetcorn."

"There's plenty else to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry."

"Nicely observed."

"You never eat."

"Wonderfully noticed."

"You'll make yourself ill."

"I'll risk it."

"You're skinny enough as it is."

"Just leave it!"

Zabini looked shocked at Malfoy's sudden outburst and for a second Malfoy almost regretted it, but then decided that the other boy decided it. Served him right for prying in other people's business. He stood and left without saying anything and stormed off down to the dorms to wallow in self-pity until the bell rang and he was forced to trudge down to that ridiculous class taught by the giant.

The sweetcorn surrendered as the peas took over their mashed potato fort.

* * *

"Right. Today we're going to be looking at something completely new. I doubt many of yer will have seen one of these before, but Professor Dumbledore said it would be a good idea for yer all to see one." Hagrid said loudly down beside his hut after lunch. Malfoy stifled a yawn as Hagrid led them around the side of his hut to reveal the mystery creature. 

It was a phoenix.

"This 'ere's Fawkes." Hagrid said proudly. "He belongs to the Headmaster. Now, what can you tell me about phoenixes, anybody?"

"They die every two months and are reborn from the ashes." Granger said promptly.

"Tha's right Hermione. Five points. Anyone else?"

"Their tail feathers are used in wands." Attempted Weasley.

"Right again. Take another five points. Any more?"

"Their tears will heal almost any wound. They'll bring you back from the edge of death." Malfoy said quietly, but everybody heard. They all looked at him, some bored, others confused. Hagrid didn't look as though he knew what to do.

"Correct Malfoy. Now, I think that's about it. I certainly can't think of any more important things. Now, get your textbooks out and turn to page twenty-three. I want you to have a quick read, then I'll let you all come up and have a stroke if you want."

Malfoy tugged his book out of his bag and flicked to page twenty-three. There was a drawing of a phoenix there (though not nearly as splendid as Fawkes) and a list of the properties and how to take care of a phoenix. The usual stuff, really.

"Right, once yer have all read the page, form a line over against the wall of my house and you can come up one at a time to 'ave a closer look."

Malfoy walked over to the hut and joined the line behind Potter. The Gryffindor turned his head almost imperceptibly.

"Will he recognise you?" he whispered, so quietly that he almost missed it. He answered with an affirmative nod, which Potter acknowledged with a slight inclination of his own messy head of hair.

"Will it bite me?" asked a Hufflepuff at the front of the line. Malfoy saw Potter roll his eyes.

"Not, he won't." Hagrid replied firmly. "He'd never do that."

"Same way that a Hippogriff won't attack you, I'll bet. Just stay away and you're fine." Malfoy muttered sullenly. Potter's mouth quirked ever so slightly.

Harry stepped away from Fawkes's perch and moved back to the clear patch of grass where the people who had already seen Fawkes were stood. He watched as Malfoy walked up to Fawkes and reached out a hand. The phoenix moved his head into it, encouraging Malfoy to stroke him. Harry could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile on Malfoy's lips.

* * *

"I was just wondering what I should do now." Malfoy explained. Madame Pomfrey huffed a little then ordered him to take his shirt off. He caught sigh of himself in a mirror and winced. He really was too skinny. Pity he couldn't do much about that at the moment. 

"I'll take it off now." Pomfrey said briskly. "It's healed as much as it will do with magic. You'll just have to leave it to nature now."

With a wave of her wand, the bloodied bandages that had been wound around his stomach and disposed of them.

"You'll have to take it easy for the next few days. It's still delicate and it will most certainly rupture if you do anything too physical."

"What about Quidditch?"

Pomfrey gave him a reproachful glance.

"I wouldn't advise it."

"But I've got the trials tomorrow! I need to be there! I'm captain!"

"So long as you don't do too much flying, I don't see why it would be a problem. Now go."

Malfoy shrugged his shirt back on and slung his bag over his shoulder, doing up the buttons as he passed down the corridor and out of the Hospital Wing. Passing Potter as he made his way down to the dungeons, he inclined his head slightly by means of greeting, and was shocked to see Potter smile in response. It was only a split second, but it was enough

* * *

Work spread out haphazardly across the Gryffindor table, Harry bit his lip and sifted through the pages to find one of the research pages. It slid off the table and onto the floor. He bent down to pick it up and someone pushed him, causing him to fall in a rather ungraceful manner straight onto the floor. He glared up at Ron. 

"That's not funny" he admonished, climbing back up onto the bench, research sheet in hand. Ron peered at the large sheet and screwed up his freckled face in a frown.

"What are you doing?"

"Potions. I need it done for Friday. He set it on Monday, but I didn't listen when he told us it would take a lot of time. I guess now I'm paying for it."

"Indeed." Drawled a voice. "I had mine finished by last night."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Please can I look at it?"

"What do I get in return?" Malfoy asked suspiciously.

"Um… what do you want?"

"I'll think of something. But if I give you it, you have to promise not to go back on the deal," he smirked. Harry nodded his head slowly.

"All right then." He said, and stuck his hand out. Struck by the irony of the simple gesture, he smiled slightly to himself as Malfoy shook his hand.

"Here you go."

Malfoy produced a thick wad of sheet from nowhere and dumped them on the Gryffindor table. The table shook. Harry groaned.

"This is going to take forever, isn't it?" he asked helplessly. Malfoy smirked.

"Oh yes. You're going to regret the day you took Potions for NEWTs." He turned on his heel and left the Hall. Harry sighed heavily and reached over to Malfoy's project. He hesitated when he noticed Ron gaping.

"What?" he asked defensively. Ron closed his mouth for a second before speaking.

"What the hell was that all about?"

"What?"

"You and Malfoy. You were practically nice to each other! And he let you borrow his work! The ferret let you look at it!"

"At a price," Harry corrected, shuffling through the work.

"You're mental," Ron said with an odd finality that Harry was glad of. Shrugging rather than replying, he bent over Malfoy's project and got to work.

* * *

Malfoy was hardly expecting it when Zabini came into their room later that night, looking very confused, convinced he was hallucinating and that it wasn't physically possible for Potter to be at the Slytherin Wall asking for Malfoy. Hiding his smirk at the other boy's confusion, Malfoy rolled off his bed and walked out across the common room to the wall. He stepped outside into the corridor, but Potter was not there. Instead, his Potions work sat in a neat pile on the floor. With a wry smile he picked it up and took it back into his dorm.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Do take a seat." 

Malfoy crossed the circular room and sat down in the armchair that had appeared beside the desk. Dumbledore smiled at him cryptically, receiving a glare for his efforts, and waved his hand over a bowl of sweets. They changed from sherbet lemons to something black.

"Liquorice, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy was sorely tempted, but decided to be contrary just for fun.

"No thank you sir," he declined politely. Dumbledore gave him what could have been a very small shrug, and leant back in his chair, peering at the Slytherin over the top of his glasses.

"I have something that I need to ask you, Mr. Malfoy," he began solemnly. Malfoy leaned forward slightly, biting his lip in apprehension. Dumbledore glanced at the clock on the wall before continuing. "Would you a cup of tea?"

"What?"

"I asked if you would like a cup of tea."

"Oh… no, thank you. I don't drink hot drinks."

"I have another question. Would you like to hear it?"

"Yes, rather," Malfoy said shortly, already tired of the old man's games. He crossed his arms over his chest and harrumphed.

"How would you like to have private training in which you will learn to harness and control your wandless magic?"

"I'm sorry?"

"It's not normal, I will admit that – it is extremely rare that wandless magic starts manifesting before seventh year, and even then most people have left before it happens. But you are clearly an exception to the rule. If you should agree to the training, I shall have two different teachers doing the practice with you. You may choose one."

"Snape." Malfoy said automatically. Dumbledore gave him a slight smile.

"That's Professor Snape, Mr. Malfoy. And I get to choose your other instructor – I think I'll pick Professor Flitwick. He's accustomed you such occurrences."

"So when will this training be?"

"Once a week on a day that will fit into both you and your instructors' schedules. I assume you are familiar with the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes."

"Then that is where your training will take place. I trust you are not busy tonight?"

"No, sir."

"In that case, I should think that you can start straight away. It does not do good for wandless magic to grow out of control before it can be reined in. It needs to be dealt with as soon as possible."

Struck by a sudden horrific thought, Malfoy frowned.

"You're not going to take it away, are you?"

"Your magic?" Dumbledore asked, equally surprised. He shook his head with a small laugh. "No, certainly not. We are just going to teach you how to use it constructively. Well, if that's all sorted, I think that you should be at the Room of Requirement in an hour. That should give you enough time, shouldn't it? I shall inform all your other teachers why you haven't had time to do all your homework. You are dismissed."

Slightly lost for words, Malfoy stood and walked over to the door. He was opening it when Dumbledore spoke again. His head was bent over some paperwork.

"Oh, and there will be another students attending training alongside you. He's already had some training, so his control is more substantial than yours." Dumbledore looked up, a twinkle in his eye that could only meant one thing.

"It's Potter, isn't it?"

* * *

"Malfoy!" Potter said in shock as the Slytherin stepped into the Room of Requirement at seven o'clock. Malfoy simply glared at him – trust Potter to get his wandless magic ebfore everyoen else. And trust him to have really poewrful wandless magic. 

"When are Snape and Flitwick getting here?"

"I don't know," Potter replied, shrugging and sitting on a beanbag on the floor. "Dumbledore just said to come at seven. He didn't tell me you would be here though."

"Yeah well, he also decided to tell me after I'd agreed to come. Well, not technically, but he did have that look in his eye."

"Which look?"

"The look he reserves for you."

Malfoy sauntered over to the far wall and looked out of the window. The rain was pelting the glass softly, leaving streaks that reached down to the sill and crept in through a small crack at the bottom. Curious, Malfoy raised his hand and held it over the crack, fingers extended. Concentrating with everything he could on 'Reparo', he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the glass. But when he opened his eyes again, the water was still dripping in. He sighed dejectedly, and jumped when Potter's hand reached past him and grabbed his, holding it out for him.

"Don't strain yourself," he said quietly and pressed Malfoy's hand between his and the cold glass. "Just clear your mind and repair it."

Malfoy took a deep breath and wiped his mind blank, like he would for Occlumency, and whispered 'Reparo' in his head. The glass beneath his hand grew warm and looking closely he could see a faint white glow from between his palm and the window. Potter released his hand and Malfoy let his drop. The glass was smooth and unbroken

"That's weird." Malfoy observed as Potter stepped away and sat back down on the beanbags, long legs sprawled out before him. He looked up questioningly.

"What is?"

"That. Whenever I used wandless magic before, it as when I was really angry or scared, or just feeling threatened. I wasn't calm at all."

Potter shrugged.

"I guess involuntray magic is triggered by different things than the stuff you do on purpose." He sugegsted. Malfoy gave the grounds one last glanceand gave the beanbags a suspicious look. Potter raised an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you've never sat on one before." Malfoy shook his head and stepepd up to it. "You're just a stuck-up snob, you are."

"And you're a plebeian. You'll get over it."

He lowered himself onto a banbags and yelped as it sank down further, positively ensconcign him in material. He struggled for a minute before pausing for breath and riskign a glance at Potter. He was smirking. Which was perfectly excusable Malfoy _was_ half-sat, half-buried in a beanbag, hair all over the place and red in the face.

"That's not funny." The Slytherin complained as he managed to pull himself out of the hollow and sit in an almost civilised fashion. "I bet you would have messed up if you'd tried to eat a full dinner at a function. You'd probably use the wrong cutlery."

"Yes, probably." Potter conceded, and shuffled to practically slump. Malfoy eyed him critically and sighed. He started when the door opened.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, glad you could join us," Snape said sarcastically. "I hope you know that the only pleasure I take in being here each week will be to see you fail so miserably. I want to make sure that you know I had no choice whatsoever in whether or not I participated. Apparently I have you to thank for tat, Malfoy." Snape shot him a glare that he deflected easily. The Potions Master's glares just didn't work on him anymore. "Now, to my great annoyance, Professor Flitwick was injured by an over-enthusiastic third-year this afternoon and is currently in the Hospital Wing having his feet and hands reattached to his body. Which leaves me with you two to deal with all by myself. So I'll be clear with you – if you don't put any effort in, I will make sure that you no longer continue this training, no matter how imprtant the Headmaster belivees it ot be."

Malfoy couldn't help but notic that Potter went particularly stiff as Snape said this. The man smiled at him cruelly and stalked over ot the far wall. Potter and Malfoy stood up and waited to be instructed.

"Potter. I've been told you can already do very simple spells. Show me what."

Potter moved into the middle of the room and glanced at the teacher.

"Are there any specific ones?"

"Just do it."

With a barely perceptible growl of irritance, Potter raised his hand. Malfoy caught sigh of the faint glow and a secodn later a fire burst up on a pile of logs that the Room had provided. Hebanished it with a wave of his hand, thenAccio'ed a cushion from the other side of the room. Oince he had the cushion, he levitated it and changed it into a rabbit.

"So you've done simple charms and some Transfiguration. Interesting." Snape remarked. "A bit shoddy, but we can work on that. Mr Malfoy. You haven't had any trainign prior to this, have you?"

"No sir."

"What can you do?"

"If I get particularly angry or scared or anything like that, I make things happen. There doesn't seem to be any relevance to what happens though. It's just random things."

"Like blowing a hole in the school grounds?"

Malfoy blushed.

"Yeah, like that, and flipping McGonagall off her feet. Actually I tend to make things explode. Is that normal?"

"Not unlike Potter here, 'normal' has never been a word I would use to describe you," Snape said airily, and took out his wand. "Tarantallegra."

Malfoy jerked as the hex hit him, bracing himself for the feel of it, and his ffet automatically started moving. Snape took the hex off.

"Block it. Tarantallegra."

Again, his feet shot off of their own accord, completely against his wishes.

"I said block it!"

"You're not telling him how!"

Snape lowered his wand and turned slowly to stare at Potter, who was in turn glaring at the Potions Master.

"Are you questioning my teaching methods, Potter?"

"I'm not questioning them. I'm just saying that you yell at people because they can't do something, but you don't help them. You just expect them to be able to do it and but when they can't you don't tell them how!"

Malfoy watched Potter carefully. He seemed to be getting riled, but why? Or was this something different? Perhaps what Granger was asking him about in Defence the first day back? He suddenly noticed that Potter's hand was glowing faintly.

"Potter!" he shouted suddenly. Potter turned to look at him, and his eyes were slightly wild. He blinked and his eyes refocused.

"What just happened, Potter?" Snape prompted, looking a bit too eager.

"Um… I was getting angry and my wandless magic was coming. I think."

"Yes it was." Malfoy confirmed. Snape shot him a look.

"How do you know?"

"Our hands glow a bit when the magic's about to come. I noticed it, and stopped him before he could blow you up or something. But I do agree with him, loathe as I am to admit it." He swore Potter's mouth quirked slightly. "You need to tell me how to block it. I don't know how, and just hitting with the curse over and over isn't going to help me."

Snape snarled and pointed his wand at Potter.

"Block. Legilimens."

Potter jerked, but Malfoy saw the faint glow and the spell rippled away, leaving Potter looking out of breath and angry, but defiant as well.

"You see. I have been practising."

Snape was eyeing the Gryffindor curiously. He seemed to remember Malfoy' presence and started suddenly.

"That will have to be enough for the night. I expect you both here the same time next week. Lateness will be punished. Also try and practise. It will not do you any harm."

He billowed out of the room, leaving a confused Slytherin and satisgfied Gryffindor.

"What was that all about?"

Potter turned to him.

"He's been teaching me Occlumency since last year. I've finally learned how to block him. The look on his face was priceless."

"He's teaching you Occlumency?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore's orders. The little speech he gave at the beginning was kind of aimed at me."

"Why was he talking about cancelling the lessons?"

"Because last year I accidentally had a trip into his Pensieve. He hasn't forgiven me for it yet."

Sensing that he wasn't going to get any more out of the other boy. Malfoy nodded and checked his wand before leaving the room. He heard Potter close the door behind him, and he started walking down the corridor towards the dungeons. He could hear Potter walking in the opposite direction, but then his footsteps stopped, so Malfoy paused as well.

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

He covered his shock and replied before the other boy mistook his silence for contempt and stalked off.

"Goodnight, Potter."

* * *

Are they being too nice too soon? I don't want this to be one of those fics where suddenly they're all buddy-buddy and bob's your uncle. Tell me if you think I'm going too quickly. ie, REVIEW! 

Please review...

smokey

Oh for anyone who's interested, the full Catullus 85 translates as "I love and I hate. You may ask how this can be. I do not know, but it is a very real feeling and it tortures me."

I can't remember the full Latin, but I should think you'll be able to find it on the internet if you're that interested.

PS I just sorted out that _terrible_ mistake in the last bit (Harry & Malfoy's training). I kind of got my hexes muddled and had Snape casting Rictumsempra by accident. Sorry for anyone who noticed before I changed it and got confused!


	5. Thursday, September 8th

IT HAS ARRIVED...!

At long last I finally get RtG 5 up and posted. Mind you, the fact that I wrote it all yesterday doesn't say much for my imagination...

Praise my beta, FireOpal, who got this done and dusted within 10 minutes of me sending it to her. If she hadn't have done, Harry would have turned out as a girl, due to my awful typos.

Anyway... here you go!

* * *

Malfoy snagged a crumpet from the serving plates and dug his knife into the butter, smearing the fatty substance over the surface of the crumpet. Chewing it slowly, he narrowed his eyes as Potter walked into the Hall, hair wet and stuck to his head, Weasel and Granger either side of him, laughing loudly and gesturing wildly with their hands. Potter was grinning sheepishly and shaking his head. They sat down at the Gryffindor table, and most of their Housemates paused in their own conversations to greet them jovially.

Malfoy blinked and turned his head slowly to look at either side of himself. Nobody was sat next to him. The Slytherins that were at breakfast were either eating in silence or talking in dark hisses, darting occasional suspicious glances around to check that nobody was listening. Malfoy frowned and looked over at the Gryffindor table again. It wasn't that there were more of them – they were just more social generally, everyone talking to everyone else. He cast his gaze over the students and caught Potter giving him a confused look. Malfoy shook his head and looked down at his plate.

He placed on hand on the edge, steadying it, and brought the other down hard on the opposite edge. A sharp crack made the people nearby jump, but they just ignored him. The plate was cracked down the middle. He raised his eyes and saw that Potter was still giving him a curious look. He held the plate together and laid one hand over the crack and swept his mind clear of all emotion, focusing on the incantation in a firm, clear voice in his head.

Nothing happened.

He glanced up at Potter, and the Gryffindor seemed to realise what he was trying to say. He nodded, an action that could have been misinterpreted as agreement to one of his friends, but Malfoy knew it was for him. It appeared that Potter could be subtle when he wanted. Setting the two pieces of plate down on the table, he gathered his belongings and headed towards Transfiguration.

* * *

"Today you will be attempting to turn one thing into something completely different. Up to your OWLs, all you have done is change similar objects – like hedgehogs to pincushions. At NEWT level, you must be able to Transfigure something like this matchbox" She held it up for them to see, then placed it on the floor. "Into something like this."

With a flick of her wand, the matchbox burst from the floor, and in its place stood a rather irate-looking Hippogriff, tail swishing angrily, orange eyes fixed on Malfoy.

As it pawed the ground, McGonagall vanished it.

"Miss Turpin, please come and hand out these matchboxes, one each."

A girl from Ravenclaw that Harry didn't really recognise stood up, marched to the front bench and took the boxes from McGonagall.

"When are you going to go see Dumbledore?" Hermione whispered as Lisa passed them. He shrugged.

"Probably at lunch. I don't really want to bother him."

"Harry, he'd rather you tell him than suffer alone!"

"You make it sound like I'm in pain." Harry replied wryly. Hermione scowled.

"You know what I mean."

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall barked. "Listen to the instructions!"

"Sorry miss." She responded, blushing.

"I want you to read pages 178 to 180 thoroughly before attempting any spell. Once you feel that you are able, you may Transfigure your matchbox into whatever you wish – but bear in mind that this _is_ a lesson. Nothing dangerous or unsuitable, please." She added, with a sharp glare at Malfoy. Harry frowned.

"The teachers really are being hard on Malfoy." He muttered to Hermione as he got out his textbook.

"Since when do you care about _him_?" she asked vehemently. Harry shrugged.

"Since last night, I think."

"Ah yes. Your study sessions with him and Snape." She said sympathetically. "How did it go?"

"Not so bad." Harry mused, flicking to the right page. "I managed to block Snape's Legilimens, which he didn't seem pleased about."

"Well, that has to be good."

"Hmm." He agreed, concentrating more fully on unspecified Transfigurations.

* * *

Across the room, Malfoy watched on in interest as Potter attempted to Transfigure his matchbox. It did indeed change shape – in fact, it turned into a candle – but he decided that this probably wasn't the expected outcome, since both he and Granger proceeded to stare at it with no remainder of comprehension on their faces. He smirked at Potter's ineptness and turned back to his own matchbox.

"Gladius Discrepantia." He said clearly, and a few people turned and watched as his own matchbox vanished with a faint pop to be replaced with a silver long-sword. With emeralds set in the hilt, he couldn't help but admire his own handiwork. It seemed that his classmates were equally impressed. Smirking to himself, he picked it up and tested its weight in his hand. He wasn't ready for McGonagall's sudden interruption.

"I said nothing dangerous, Malfoy! Why do you never listen to instructions?" she snapped angrily, and his sword vanished with a flick of her wand, the matchbox falling to the floor with a harsh rattle. He glared at her.

"What did you want me to do with it, turn it into a cloud of pink candyfloss?"he snarled, and couldn't help the small spike of satisfaction received when Potter stifled a laugh, amongst a few others. McGonagall pursed her lips and glowered at him.

"Five points from Slytherin for your insolence. That's enough practical work for you, Mr. Malfoy." She said smartly, and marched away to the front of the classroom to watch over her students. Glaring at everyone and anyone, Malfoy sat down heavily at his desk, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling, making as much of a fuss as he could without being called a drama queen.

"Canicula Discrepentia!" he heard from across the classroom, and turned to look, his mood soon forgotten as an enormous, bear-like black dog erupted from the matchbox that Potter had set on the ground, teeth bared and eyes blazing fiercely. He smirked.

"Summoning the Grim now, Potter?" he drawled languidly, twirling his wand in his hand. "Haven't you got enough on your plate without conjuring the Death Omen?"

To his immense surprise, Potter didn't look angry straight away. In fact, he was sure that a small smile flashed over the Gryffindor's face before it contorted with fury.

"Shut up, Malfoy," he spat with admirable venom. "I'd watch it if I were you. I have more than just Death up my sleeve for Dark followers." He snarled, and Draco was rather taken aback by the sheer loathing wrought in his voice. Then it clicked – his dog represented Black. And Potter was letting his rage for the real Death Eaters out, mostly his own father and Bellatrix, under the pretence of a simple childhood rivalry.

"I quiver with fear, Potter." He sneered, working up to a rather large insult.

"Malfoy!" McGonagall's voice rang out across the classroom. "Stop distracting other people!"

Malfoy scowled at her again and grumbled under his breath as the rest of the class carried on.

"Stop!" a voice hissed in Malfoy's ear.His hand shot out to grab the person by the throat. Quite an achievement, since the person in question was invisible.

"Who is it?" he whispered viciously, and was replied with a half-choke.

"It's me you prat. Let go!" Potter spat, and Malfoy released his grip. With a furtive glance around himself, he could see that a few people were giving him weird looks.

"What?" he snarled. "Keep moving!"

Casting him shocked looks, the people around him scuttled away. It seemed he could still get the younger ones to do his bidding then, even if he was missing his famous bodyguards. He turned back to where he hoped Potter was standing.

"What do you want, Scarhead?" he growled, and swore he heard a small chuckle.

"Just to ask what the hell was up with your magic at breakfast." The air replied, sounding a bit too amused for Malfoy's liking.

"Well I don't know, do I?" he sneered, and started walking down the corridor to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Potter grabbed his arm and he tried to wrench it from his grip. A silent scuffle ensued, which resulted in Malfoy finding himself with his back pressed to the wall and Potter'**s** voice in his ear, his arm trapped in between their bodies.

"You might want to watch your attitude, Malfoy," Potter snarled quietly. "You don't want to land yourself in even more trouble than you already have. Just keep your head down."

Malfoy frowned at the invisible force.

"Is this warning aggressive or helpful?" he asked softly, raising an eyebrow. Potter snorted and released him.

"Take it as you want to," he replied scornfully. "I don't care."

Malfoy heard his footsteps retreating down the corridor, and with a whoosh of material, he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. Malfoy watched his retreating back for a few seconds before following.

* * *

"We'll be looking at another type of Dark Detector today – and I'm going to collect in your homework at the end of the lesson."

"What homework?" Harry asked as he walked into the lesson late. Maude gave him a surprised look.

"The one I set you last lesson, of course." She said, patronisingly. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You didn't set us any," he said lightly, sitting down at the desk beside Ron. She grew rather flustered.

"I did, I specifically remember saying that if you didn't finish it in class then you'd have it for homework. Making notes on the Oscillating Sphere."

"I don't remember that." he said blandly as Malfoy stomped into the room, and sat down at the desk in front of Maude, scowling. Maude edged away slightly. "Does anyone else remember that?" Harry asked, addressing the rest of the class. They all shook their heads determinedly. Ron was grinning behind his hand, and Hermione was trying to look unimpressed whilst smiling. Maude drew herself up toherinconsiderable full height and tried to glare at them all.

"You don't have to like me, sixth years, but you _do_ have to respect me!" she snapped. Someone in the corner snorted with amusement. "I am the teacher here, not you, so shut up and listen!"

Bored already, Harry flicked his hand under the desk, cleared his mind, whispered the incantation, and made the papers on her desk levitate a few inches off the wood. Sniggers broke out amongst the students as she carried on speaking in her monotone voice, completely oblivious to the floating assignments that were slowly but surely making their way over to the open window, getting easier to control as he went.

"As I was saying, today we will be looking at something known as a Foe-Glass," she continued, and the shock it caused Harry made him lose his concentration and drop the papers. They fell to the floor, and he braced himself for the loud noise that they would make, but they froze a hair's breadth from the ground, and slowly made their way back up to the original height, resuming their voyage to the window.

Harry looked over at Malfoy and smiled to himself. A fine sheen of sweat was breaking out on his skin, and he was shaking, but he was managing. Harry gathered himself together and added his own magic to the effort, easing the burden on Malfoy, who flashed him a grateful glance as he did.

The work finally depositing itself out of the window caused a roar of laughter form the class, which of course got Maude's attention. Whirling around in her frumpy robes, she looked around desperately for the cause of the disruption. Finding none, her eye began to twitch.

"Settle down, sixth years!" she squawked. "You'll have to research this for homework if you don't have it done by the end of the lesson!" she reprimanded, earning herself many sniggers. Nobody was going to do the homework, anyway.

Harry was slightly perturbed by the idea of a Foe-Glass – it held too many bad memories of the Triwizard Tournament for him. But pushing the thoughts away and clearing his mind, he looked back at the front desk, and was extremely surprised to see a quill making its way towards the window. Grinning, he raised another quill and moved it towards its fate.

* * *

As soon as Malfoy saw the papers moving, he knew that Potter was doing it. One glance at the Gryffindor confirmed it – his hand was glowing and his face was creased with faint concentration. Malfoy added his own magic to the journey and found that with Potter's magic, it was actually very easy to control the path of the assignments. But then Maude said something that caused Potter to lose his concentration, and it took all of Malfoy's will to keep the parchment off the floor. He was more than grateful when Potter took up the strain again, and they worked together to drop the paper out of the window.

Whilst Potter appeared to be thinking about something else, Malfoy took it upon himself to transport everything on the front desk out of the window and onto the muddy ground outside. After the first quill, Potter cottoned on and they began the quest to get everything off her desk.

Five minutes later, when Maude finished droning on and turned around to hand out the assignments and was faced with a bare desk, the class could no longer hold back their laughter. No doubt their amusement could be heard next door – but nobody came in and reprimanded them. Malfoy watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Maude ran out of the classroom after failing to control them. Grinning widely, Potter leapt from his desk to peer out of the window, where the equipment was lying prone in the muddy grass.

Malfoy stood up and walked over to him, pushing him away from the window.

"Out of my way, Potter." he snarled, and shoved the Gryffindor hard. Potter shoved him back in retaliation, and he felt the faint motion of something being slipped into under his hand that was lying on the windowsill. He closed his hand around the parchment, and silently marvelled at Potter's abilities in wandless magic.

"Get lost, Malfoy." Potter replied in kind. Malfoy sneered at him.

"I'd get away from the window if I were you, Potter. You never know what's lurking out there, waiting to lure you away." He spat venomously, and realised with a sharp pang of anxiety that he had just hit a nerve. Potter's face contorted with fury, and this time, it wasn't just for show. Before Malfoy could react, Potter's wand was at his throat and his head was banged against the wall viciously as Potter threw him against it.

"Don't you dare say that again." He hissed furiously, so quiet that Malfoy doubted anyone else heard. He tried to convey his apologies without words, and for a moment it seemed to work – for a split second, it looked as though Potter's face relaxed slightly, but then the hard mask was back again, and he growled in a completely meaningful, dog-like fashion.

"Just watch your mouth." He snarled, and let go of the Slytherin's robes, storming back to his seat. Malfoy let out a breath of relief and sat down at his own desk, unrolling the parchment under the desk. There were two words scrawled on in Potter's messy handwriting.

_Good work._

* * *

Harry watched from the Lake as Malfoy started screaming at some idiot who had purposefully used an illegal move on him, causing him to nearly fall off his broom. The Slytherin in question looked nothing close to repentant – in fact, he looked as though he was about to hit Malfoy in the head and make sure he fell this time.

Malfoy was holding Quidditch trials for his team, and Harry had to say that he was doing a fair job so far. He'd re-employed Pucey and Warrington as Chasers – they were now both in their seventh year – and decided on Zabini as the third Chaser. The latter looked particularly sullen, Harry thought as he looked at the black-haired boy through his Omnioculars. He watched with amusement as Malfoy hexed the person who was aggravating him and they sank down to the ground. Whatever Malfoy might say, some things never changed.

* * *

Malfoy growled as another useless Beater left the pitch. He was rather annoyed with the fact that the only competent one was a third year – excluding Bulstrode, that is. She didn't need skill to terrify their opponents. Reluctantly, he informed Graham Pritchard that he had the position as Beater on the team. The small boy looked ecstatic. As he landed and started to walk off the pitch, another person – a fifth year, he believed, strutted up to him.

"I want to try out." She said shortly. You haven't got a full team."

"Did you not read the notice? I'm keeping Bletchley from last year. I don't want to change him. Go away." He snapped in return. She stood her ground, blonde hair shining in the low midday sun.

"I wasn't talking about Keeper." She sneered. Malfoy frowned at her.

"Weren't you watching then? I've got everyone I need. All the other positions have been tried out, and I've picked. You should have got here on time if you wanted to have a go."

"You didn't try out anyone for Seeker." She pointed out, and Malfoy stared at her.

"That's because _I'm_ Seeker." He explained slowly.

"Still, you ought to try out other people. I reckon I could beat you easily." She said snottily, hoisting her broom onto her shoulder. Malfoy felt his lip curl involuntarily.

"Well I don't. I'm Seeker, and that's that. Now go away." He snarled, but the girl grabbed his arm and stopped him, her blue eyes flashing dangerously.

"You _will _try me out, Malfoy, and you _will _give me the position, or you'll have Snape to answer to." She growled angrily. Malfoy ripped his arm from her grip, and was shocked to notice that it was glowing faintly. Stowing it away in his robes to repress the magic, he stepped away from her.

"Fine, go to Snape then. I'd like to see how my _godfather_ reacts to such a predicament." He sneered, and this time managed to leave the pitch without being stopped, only to be greeted by an increasingly familiar invisible body out on the grounds.

"What do you want now?" he muttered, still irked by the girl's impudence. Potter laughed.

"Such a pleasant greeting." He commented. Malfoy felt his mouth quirk up at the corner, much to his own dismay.

"Are you here for a reason?" he asked.

"Yes, I came to apologise." Potter replied, much to Malfoy's shock.

"For what?" he asked before he thought. Potter made a noise that sounded rather uncomfortable, and Malfoy smirked as realisation hit.

"Coward." He accused, and Potter choked.

"How am I a coward?" he spluttered.

"Apologising when I can't see you." Malfoy explained, and with a huffing noise, Potter grabbed his arm and pulled him back around the Quidditch stands, whipping the Cloak off. Malfoy was satisfied to seer that the Gryffindor was suitably flustered, his black hair in complete disarray as he glared at Malfoy.

"I'm sorry I overreacted, all right? You didn't realise what you were saying, and I was a bit violent." He snarled, and Malfoy smirked at him.

"Congratulations." He said airily. "You just apologised to a Slytherin."

Potter poked him in the side in retaliation, and Malfoy abruptly swore and clamped a hand down on his side, bending double.

"Shit!" Potter yelped. "I completely forgot about that!"

"It's all right, Potter, keep your head on." Malfoy hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

"You certainly don't look fine!" Potter said in a disbelieving tone, and took out his wand, pointing it where Malfoy's hand was clamped to his side. "_Torpens_," he murmured, and Malfoy felt the muscles and nerves go numb under the spell's effects. He looked up at Potter, giving him a wry smile as he stood up straight.

"I never would have used that spell for healing," he commented lightly. "I suppose it can be useful at times."

"I hardly would have used it if it had been your hand or something." Potter replied, raising an eyebrow. Malfoy smirked at him.

"Knowing your intelligence, you'd probably destroy all the nerves in my hand."

"You underestimate me, Malfoy. I'm not as stupid as I used to be."

Smiling inwardly at the offhand comment, Malfoy started walking up to the school.

* * *

"Welcome, my faithful students!"

Ron snorted as Trelawney swept into the room, as batty as ever. Harry hadn't particularly wanted to take Divination – but as part of the sixth year course, he had to pick five extra subjects as well as his original four to study as supplement. But having failed Divination the previous year, he had been entered into the Beginner's class – much to Ron's amusement, until he found out that he was faced with a similar fate.

"I am sure it is an honour for you to partake in this class, since most of you have never studied the fine art of Divination before," Trelawney continued in a dreamy voice. She suddenly descended on Ron and Harry, head tilted to one side, looking completely crazy.

"I see that you have returned once more, to learn the basics of my study," she commented. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. "I suppose you can never be too well learned in a subject." She decided, and pottered away. Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry, who had to muffle his laugh with his hand. The best part was that most people in the class had no idea just how weird Trelawney could get – they were in for a shock. She next leaned down to Zabini, who leaned backwards as far as he could go.

"Your father, I fear, will last no longer than the last, my boy." She said eerily, and he sneered at her.

"I don't need a Seer to tell me that." He replied caustically. "I know my mother's ways better than you do, I should think."

Trelawney simply gazed at him for a few moments before moving on as though nothing had happened.

"You, young Malfoy, have a dark aura." she commented mysteriously, and reached out a hand to prod his cheek, much to everyone's surprise – especially Malfoy's.

"Hands off, you old bat!" he growled, wand out and pointed directly at her heart. Unfazed again though, she just shook her head, sighing in a resigned fashion.

"When will you youngsters learnt that the most influential magic involves no waving of sticks, with things shooting out of the end?"

The dirty part of most of the class's collective mind took over and there was a snort of laughter at the image she produced. She looked around, rather bewildered.

"What did I say?" she asked, confused.

* * *

Sitting on the edge of the lake, Malfoy lay back on the grass and thanked whoever decided to give sixth years free periods. Even if he wasn't studying during them – as he was meant to do. The previously muddy ground had dried since this morning, and the skies had cleared to reveal a gorgeous blue sky with only a few clouds. Funny how the weather changed so quickly, he mused, then laughed inwardly. Funny how so many things change so quickly.

Sitting up, he pulled his robes off, stripping down to just his T-shirt and jeans, and stuck his hand on the surface of the cold water of the lake. Trying to ignore the coldness that seeped up his arm, he cleared his mind of everything he was thinking of, closing his eyes as he concentrated on a single, whispered word in his head.

_Gelido_.

For a split second, there was nothing – but then the water below his hand grew solid and he could hear the gradual cracking as ice formed around his hand, spreading out into the lake and freezing the water. After a few seconds, there was nothing in his mind but his own whispered incantation; then, as abruptly as it had happened, his mind went completely blank as it partially shut down into a state of meditation. It was as though something inside him had been released – the magic poured out of his fingertips like water from a tap, flowing into the lake and searing the water within.

He was vaguely aware of this on a subconscious level, and though he knew that it would probably be a good idea to stop, his mind wasn't working on a level high enough to agree. He didn't know how long he'd been knelt there at the water's edge; his mind had stopped keeping time. The power in his body had taken over, and his body was nothing more now than a vessel for the magic, only just functioning. It just kept flowing, kept going, until he would be drained of all his magic…

And then suddenly his mind was wrenched from its dormant state and he was propelled forwards into the suddenly liquid lake, plunging into its icy depths. The shock was more than his body could take, and it stopped working as the cold soaked through his bones. He moved his legs as best he could, and tried to use his arms to get to the surface, but they weren't responding as he wanted. A few weak, pitiful strokes and they shuddered to a stop. His breath seeped out from his lungs and he closed his eyes.

An explosion of power, and he found himself lying on his back on the ground, choking on lake water and shivering uncontrollably. Rolling onto his side, he spat out as much water as he could, coughing painfully. A warm hand was laid on his bare shoulder, as he emptied his lungs of the water, retching even when it had all gone and shuddering. A warming charm was cast over him, and he rolled onto his back.

Dumbledore, Snape and Potter were in varying positions beside him. Potter's hand was still on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. Malfoy nodded, coughing.

"What happened?" Snape asked curtly, and though anyone else would have mistaken his shortness for rudeness, Malfoy knew that was just as concerned as Potter. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I was practising, like you told me to, and I kind of slipped into my subconscious… I think. Like I was meditating, or something. I couldn't stop the magic coming. Then I broke out of it, and I fell into the water, but I couldn't really move. Now I'm here."

"You were pulled back to reality by Mr. Potter's quick thinking." Dumbledore explained, and Potter, suddenly realising that his hand was still on Malfoy's shoulder, removed it quickly. Malfoy immediately missed the warmth.

"What do you mean?" he asked the venerable wizard. Snape rolled his eyes at him.

"Potter was somehow able to pull your mind out of its lazy state, but he won't tell us how he did it." He replied sardonically. "No doubt you will get a better answer than we will manage."

"And where did my T-shirt go?" Malfoy asked, bewildered. Dumbledore smiled benignly at him.

"You weren't breathing when we got you out of the water."

Malfoy blinked at him.

"Is that relevant?" he asked slowly, and Potter gave a small snort of amusement.

"Yes, we had to use Muggle means of resuscitation on you, since your magic has messed itself up royally with your little stunt there."

"Well I hardly asked it to!" Malfoy said defensively, but Potter was smiling at him.

"I would advise you to go to Madame Pomfrey, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore informed him. "Harry, would you accompany him please? Just tell her he had a quick swim to cool off." Harry smirked and nodded obediently. The old wizard climbed to his feet and faced Snape. "Severus, a word, if you please." He said, and they walked off up to the castle.

Malfoy watched as Potter cast a drying charm on him, feeling the magic tingle across his skin. He sat up and pulled on his T-shirt.

"Are you going to tell me what you did then or not?" he asked absently as Potter pulled him to his feet. He swayed slightly and grabbed Potter's arm for support.

"No."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Please review and tell me what you think! Very welcome and much appreciated!

Also, if anyone has any ideas for OSotLG, I would be **sooooo** grateful.

smokey

has dyed her hair blue!


	6. Friday, September 9th

Congratulations, you're reading a month of erratic work. Trust me, this took me ages to write, and I have no idea why.

* * *

To say that Malfoy was slightly apprehensive the next morning would have been rather an understatement. Having been excused from the day's lessons and told to be at the Entrance Hall for eleven o'clock, he got up later than usual and spent a long time washing. His appearance was one of the few things he had left that he could be proud of, and he'd be damned if he let himself slip on an official occasion such as this, even if he was being reprimanded.

Gazing at himself in the mirror, he suppressed a wince as he caught sight of his naked upper body. Scars criss-crossing over his chest, some white, some pink, from the hours of abuse that he had suffered over the summer. Ribs standing out in sharp relief on his chest, the flesh around them weak and pathetic.

The mangled lump of his left forearm. His lasting reminder of his life.

He bent and rummaged under the sink for the gauze hidden at the back, straightening up stiffly, his spine cracking in about five places. Setting his wand down on the edge of the sink, he slowly wrapped the gauze around his arm to stem the gradual seeping of blood. Securing it with a Muggle pin, he grabbed his official robes and pulled them on, covering the arm.

Taking a good look at himself in the full-length mirror on the far wall, he couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his lips. Sure, he was technically no longer a Malfoy, but some things really did never change.

* * *

"This way, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore said shortly, marching down the Entrance Hall steps as Malfoy came up from the dungeons. He jogged to keep up with the surprisingly fast-moving old man ash he strode down towards the Forest.

"Where are we going, sir?" he asked as they made their way over the grass.

"To the Hearing, of course."

"But, how are we getting there?" he queried, puzzled as to why they were headed to the Forest. Dumbledore sighed.

"Since you have indeed seen Death, I believe that the best mode of transport would therefore be Thestrals. Have you flown one before?"

"No." Malfoy answered honestly, though he had to admit that he was intrigued. When Hagrid had mentioned them in Care Of Magical Creatures, he had been intensely curious – the trip up to school therefore this September had been rather enlightening. "But I have seen them, and Hagrid told us about them."

"Professor Hagrid."

"Sorry sir." He apologised automatically as they entered the Forest and walked through to a clearing, where Dumbledore quickly conjured a rabbit. Malfoy watched in disgust as the Headmaster then proceeded to cut it open with a knife and disperse the blood around the clearing. However, it seemed to work, as the Thestrals approached with a haunting grace, white eyes staring at him disconcertingly. He touched the silken mane of one, and it huffed in his ear.

"Climb on, Mister Malfoy."

Doping as he was told, he took hold of the base of one of its wings and hoisted himself up onto its broad back with the elegance of an experienced rider. He bent his head to the Thestral's ear, feeling the powerful muscles shifting beneath him.

"Ministry of Magic, Visitor's Entrance."

* * *

Malfoy stepped into the room. It was high and circular, as were most of the courtrooms, and the wizards and witches sitting the case lined the walls. There was a seat in the centre of the room, which Malfoy was motioned to sit in. He did, and looked up at the judge who was sitting.

"Draco Malfoy has been submitted to the following charge: that he did, with full intent of harm and malice, threaten a teacher of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Interrogators: Cornelius Fudge, Albus Dumbledore. Defence: none." said the bailiff, a short wizard in deep red robes. Malfoy turned his attention to Fudge, who was sneering down his nose at the boy.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, it seems you've got yourself in a bit of a pickle. He purpose of this hearing is to determine whether or not your actions were justified – which I doubt they were.

"Now, let's start from the beginning. You were in a lesson, weren't you?"

"Yes, Defence Against The Dark Arts."

"And Professor Maude had you practising the Patronus Charm?"

"Yes."

"Did you produce a Patronus?"

"Yes."

"Show us."

There was disconcerted muttering throughout the courtroom.

"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" asked someone to the right of Fudge. The Minister waved his hand irritably and nodded.

"Of course."

Malfoy took his wand from his pocket and spoke the incantation quietly but firmly. His phoenix exploded from the end in a blinding bright light and soared up above the heads of the wizards and witches. Dumbledore watched the bird with interest as it faded, leaving astonished faces in its wake.

"Impressive. Might I ask when you first learnt the charm?" Dumbledore asked.

"I first managed to produce a fully-fledged Patronus when I was seven." Malfoy replied tartly.

"Right, let's get on with it then," Fudge said impatiently. "Mr. Malfoy, when you were practising, Professor Maude had you go into a separate room in a pair to fight off a pretend Dementor. Now, my understanding is that you went in with Harry Potter. Five minutes later you carried him out claiming there were twenty Dementors in the room. You then proceeded to threaten Professor Maude, and would have probably injured her had one of your fellow students not stopped you. Is this correct?"

"Yes, but -"

"You are admitting to that which I just outlined?"

"Yes, but -"

"And are you willing to accept punishment for your actions?"

"Listen to me!" Malfoy's voice rang out in the courtroom, and silence fell. "When Potter and I went into that room we were under the impression that there was only one Dementor. But Maude didn't tell us they were Imagoes. They noticed Potter's and my weakness and exploited it. They affect us more than most people and were taking advantage of it. If I hadn't got us out of there we would have been seriously injured. So yes, I threatened her. And I feel no remorse for what I did. She doesn't deserve to teach, and I'll be damned if I let her let away with what she did to Potter."

"Why do you say that they affect you and Mr. Potter more?" Dumbledore asked sharply. Malfoy turned to him.

"Because both of us have witnessed things others could not even dream of." he said coldly. "I don't particularly want to discuss that topic with you."

"Whether we discuss it or not will be our decision, Malfoy, not yours."

"Fine then," Malfoy said furiously. "Potter hears the screams of his parents as the Dark Lord killed them, and Black dying. I am forced to relive the events over the summer – and the rest of my life."

"And what happened this summer that you are so scared of?"

Fury boiled up within Malfoy, and he no longer cared about the consequences of his actions. He wrenched the sleeve of his robes up and ripped off the gauze to reveal his left forearm. Several audible gasps came from various people, Fudge swore, and Dumbledore leaned forwards suddenly.

"The Dark Mark?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes, the Mark," Malfoy replied irritably. "It was forced upon me at the end of July. But, as you can see, I cut it out. I didn't have any healing potions with me, so it's still a mess. It starts coming back after a month, but I just have to cut it out again. It's like a tumour; it has roots. It's not going away, but at least I'm not at the Dark Lord's beck and whim."

"Very well. Now, as far as I know, you have no witnesses -"

"Well you don't know," said a voice from behind Malfoy. He smiled inwardly, instantly recognising the voice. "I'm a witness."

"Mr. Potter. How kind of you to grace us with your presence." Fudge said stiffly.

"My pleasure." Potter replied, his voice laden with sarcasm.

"Please, have a seat," Dumbledore said, his voice oddly apprehensive. Malfoy scowled as he conjured a chair for Potter.

"Potter, please give an accurate account of what happened, in your own words." Fudge snapped.

"We were practising Patronus charms. Those of us who managed it were taken to a separate chamber, and split into pairs. I was with Malfoy. We then took turns in going into another chamber with a fake Dementor in it. Malfoy and I were last; the others were all fine when they came out. When we went in it was pitch black and we could both feel the Dementors. There was quite a few, and I started to feel the effects. Just before I blacked out, Malfoy cast an extremely powerful Patronus and by the light of it I saw at least twenty Dementors. Then I lost consciousness, and woke up in the other room with Ron and Hermione bent over me," he said smartly. "Malfoy had gone."

In the murmurs and mutterings that followed Potter's description, Malfoy took the opportunity to lean over the arm of Potter's chair.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed. Potter smirked, an expression that looked distinctly out of place.

"We have Potions first thing. It didn't take much persuading to get Snape to let me off the rest of the day." He turned to Malfoy, his face straightening, and his eyes growing serious. "He'd do anything for you, you know. Even sending me in as your only defence."

Malfoy blushed and stared resolutely at the facing wall.

"He's a better father than Lucius." He muttered.

"About that – apparently you've denounced your ways." The Gryffindor remarked, his voice tinged with disbelief. Malfoy scowled.

"It's not that amazing, Potter," he growled. "And it's really none of your business."

"Actually, I think you'll find that it is. I'm the Saviour of the Wizarding World, don't you know."

Malfoy heard the irony, and snorted at the statement.

"Your head is expanding exponentially, Potter. I recommend that you stop reading the Prophet. It's having an adverse effect on you."

"Obviously."

"Order!"

Malfoy leaned back into his own seat as Fudge sent a few firecrackers into the air to ensure silence. The witches and wizards of the Wizengamot stared down at him like hawks, and he was glad that he had taken the time on his hair.

He noticed, with some interest, that Potter and Dumbledore exchanged a look that looked as though it might sway the verdict, as it were.

"Those for clearing defence of –" Fudge started, but he was interrupted by Dumbledore, who leaned over, and with a defeated look on his face, whispered something in his ear. The look on Fudge's face, to begin with smug, slowly changed until it was an expression of disbelief and horror. He stared at Dumbledore in apparent shock, who simply shook his head slowly. Fudge gulped a few times, and shuddered. Mutterings ran through the courtroom, and after a collecting himself again, he called for silence once more. He seemed to be having trouble speaking.

"The prosecution has retracted all charges." He said quietly, choking on the word 'all'. It took all of Malfoy's control to keep his jaw shut. "The defence is free to go."

The uproar that followed Fudge's words was enough to shake Malfoy out of his stupor. He stood quickly and made for the door before Dumbledore changed his mind and dragged him back to the chair. As he stormed through the doors, someone grabbed his arm and pulled him down a corridor that he didn't recognise. It seemed to be a shortcut, because he found himself standing in one of the lifts much sooner than expected.

"Snape's waiting in the foyer." Potter said shortly, leaning back against the wall. Malfoy stared at him, and he raised his eyebrow at the Slytherin. "What?"

"What did you do, Potter?" he asked, his voice awed. Potter grimaced.

"Technically, nothing. But I did say to Dumbledore last night that if he didn't find a way to get you off, I'd never speak to him again."

"You're kidding." Malfoy replied blandly. Potter shook his head slowly.

The look that the two Gryffindors had exchanged flashed in his memory. Potter's face, determined and angry and unforgiving all at once. Dumbledore's, defeated and annoyed and… afraid.

"That was an unpleasant thing to do, you know." He remarked in a low voice. "He'd be really upset if you rejected him like that."

"He should have thought of that before." Potter replied shortly, and Malfoy understood that the matter was not to be discussed.

"Level Nine; Atrium." The cool female voice said, and Malfoy followed Potter out of the lift and across the Atrium to where he could see Snape pacing impatiently in front of one of the fireplaces. He was snarling at everyone that came within two metres of him. Then he suddenly looked up and noticed them, and his face hardened as they drew closer.

"Well?" he asked shortly. Malfoy smirked.

"What do you think?" he asked supremely. The corner of Snape's mouth twitched slightly.

"You need to get back to school, both of you." he admonished. He pointed at the Floo. "You first, then Potter. I don't want either of you disappearing off somewhere." he sneered. Potter squirmed beside him.

"You're scaring him." He commented lightly, and Potter scowled. Taking a fistful of Floo from the pot on the mantelpiece, Malfoy stepped onto the hearth.

"Professor Snape's office!"

* * *

Harry was about to reach and take his own Floo powder, but a strong hand on his arm stopped him. Fearing some sort of rebuke might be forthcoming, Harry gulped and looked up at Snape's face. It was unreadable.

"It seems you do have your uses, Potter." He sneered, but the usual malice was lacking slightly. "You could have done worse." He admitted, and it was the closest thing to praise that Harry had ever received from the Potions Master. He swallowed his amazement and threw the Floo powder down onto the hearth, stepping into the pillar of green flames that transported him five hundred miles in a few seconds.

"How very elegant." Malfoy said lightly as he stumbled out of Snape's fireplace, consequently tripping on his robes and sprawling headfirst over the floor. "You should try for the Winter Olympics." 

"Very funny, Malfoy." Harry snapped, clambering to his feet as Snape stepped out of the Floo like it was just a door. Malfoy sniggered.

"You two need to get going. I don't expect the Headmaster will be in a shining mood when he returns, so I'd advise that you stay out of his way if possible."

"Have we missed lunch, sir?" Harry asked as his stomach whined at the thought. Malfoy smirked.

"Is food and sleep the only thing you Gryffindors think about?" he asked in disbelief, shaking his head. Harry grinned at him.

"No. Food, sleep, and Quidditch."

"The secret to being a Gryffindor." Snape muttered as he consulted his pocket watch. "Yes, you have missed lunch. Go down to the kitchens and get something."

"Don't know where they are." Malfoy replied shortly. Snape was bent over his desk, and pointed at Harry without looking up.

"He does. Get out."

"I'll warn you now." Harry said as they strode down the corridors networking through the dungeons. "Your old house-elf works for Dumbledore, now."

Malfoy froze in his tracks, one foot poised above the next step. His face was white. Harry would have laughed at his expression, but he probably would have received a hex for his efforts.

"The one that you freed in second year?"

"Yes, that one." Harry nodded. Malfoy gulped visibly.

"You don't suppose he'll be in there, do you?"

"Well, of course he will." Harry frowned, then his face brightened. "But I could get rid of him for you, if you want."

Malfoy eyed him suspiciously.

"And how would you manage that?"

"Just ask him to go somewhere else as a favour and then come back in half an hour, or so. He'll do it, don't worry. He likes me."

"But still, you can't just order around a house-elf that barely knows you!" Malfoy protested, and Harry snorted.

"Stop whining, and grab this." He pulled his Invisibility Cloak from his robes and chucked it at Malfoy, who wrapped it around his shoulders. He made sure he was fully covered before Harry called for the house-elf, who appeared beside him with a crack, his face grinning, his tea-cosies bouncing madly.

"Harry Potter sir, it is good to see you! Dobby has been waiting for Harry Potter to come and see him, he is having good news!" Dobby yelled as he hugged Harry's waist.

"What's your good news?" he asked benignly, prising Dobby off himself. The house-elf looked up at him happily.

"Winky is leaving Hogwarts, Harry Potter sir, to find a new job!"

"Really? She's not drinking any more then?"

"No sir, she is finding more work! Dobby is happy!"

"That's great Dobby, it really is. But I have a favour to ask."

"Anything, Harry Potter sir! Ask Dobby anything!"

"Well, I need to make Ron a birthday cake. His presents are up in our dorm, but they're not hidden very well. I need you to go up to our dorms and make sure that he doesn't come and look for them. I'll let you know when I go back up so you can come back. Is that OK, Dobby?"

"Of course, Dobby shall do it right away! Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter and his Wheezy!" he beamed, and with a click of his fingers, was gone. Harry waited a moment to make sure he wasn't coming back, and then turned to Malfoy.

"I think 'like' was a slightly weak word." The Slytherin commented. Harry laughed.

"He's a good friend."

"And what was that about your Wheezy?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's what he calls Ron. The name stuck back in fourth year."

"Wheezy." Malfoy repeated slowly.

"Yeah – you know, Weasley, Wheezy?"

"The logic of a Gryffindor house-elf… why do I even bother to comprehend?" he said wearily. Harry smirked.

"Too complicated for you?"

"No. Too simple. I was expecting an engaging explanation."

"Pompous git."

"Indeed. Hungry, pompous git."

Harry shook his head ruefully and jumped down the rest of the stairs, stopping in front of the painting of the giant silver fruit bowl. Malfoy paused beside him and stared at it.

"This is the entrance to the kitchens?" he asked incredulously. Harry nodded, reaching out to tickle the pear. It giggled and squirmed, eventually forming into the familiar door handle.

"After you." he said courteously, and Malfoy stepped through the doorway into the kitchens. Harry looked around briefly, then followed him and closed the door behind himself. This time, he did laugh at the expression on Malfoy's face.

About twenty house-elves had immediately rushed up to him, faces eager and looking as though they had been waiting for work to do.

"Go on then. What do you want for lunch?" Harry asked cheerfully. Malfoy stared at the many house-elves, as though unsure of what to do. "All right, I'll go first. Full Sunday dinner, steak pie, lots of mash, please." He said brightly. The house-elves nodded eagerly and looked expectantly over at Malfoy.

"Er… just minted roast lamb, and some port." He stammered.

"Right away, Misters!" the elves chorused, and scattered. Grinning, Harry took Malfoy by the elbow and led him over to one of the tables, sitting him down. He was still gawping at the bustle of house-elves around them.

"There's loads!" he whispered reverently. Harry snorted.

"Yep. Over a hundred. The largest number in any one dwelling in England." He informed the Slytherin, who was gawping up at the ceiling, having obviously just realised that they were directly beneath the Great Hall. However, when Harry spoke, his head snapped down.

"How the hell do _you_ know that?" he accused.

"Hermione." Harry answered succinctly.

"I should have known." Malfoy replied sagely as a dozen house-elves appeared at his elbow, bearing platters of food, which they deposited on the table.

"Have a nice meal, sirs!" they chorused, bowed, then scuttled away. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"I wish ours behaved like that." He remarked, dousing his lamb in mint sauce.

"They enjoy it here. Dumbledore's good to them." Harry shot back. Malfoy paused, and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you implying something, Potter?" he asked in a dangerously low voice. Harry shrugged, spearing a carrot on his fork.

"I'm implying that your father was cruel to Dobby." He raised his own eyebrow in a challenge. "Why, what did you think I meant?"

Malfoy scowled at him and ignored the question, instead setting straight into his lunch.

* * *

"I'm guessing that you're Quidditch Captain this year."

Malfoy nodded, his blond hair brushing against the grass.

"You too?"

"They nearly picked Ron."

Malfoy snorted, and cracked one stormy eye open, squinting at Potter against the bright sun.

"You're kidding." He said flatly.

"Not at all. They were seriously considering it."

Malfoy sat up, leaning on one hand to stare down at the Gryffindor splayed out on the grass at the edge of the lake.

"Have they completely lost their minds?" he asked incredulously. The corners of Potter's mouth twitched slightly at the insinuation.

"Not really. They didn't want to put any more pressure or responsibility on me, and apparently he was the next best choice for Captain. I would've thought that Alicia or Katie would have been a better choice, personally, but it doesn't really matter now."

"Still can't believe that I might have been facing Weasley as Captain." He remarked, flopping back down on the grass. Then he smirked. "Oh, that would have been quite fun actually… _Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, he always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King…_" he sang softly under his breath, and was surprised to hear Potter chuckle beside him.

"Stop it." The Gryffindor reprimanded, but since he was smiling at the same time, Malfoy could hardly take him seriously.

"You're not meant to laugh!" he said indignantly. Potter reached out and smacked him lightly around the head, causing his hair to stick up in an undignified fashion.

"Well I am. And it is quite funny, anyway."

"Oh great, now I need to find another way to annoy you." Malfoy snapped huffily. "Every time we sing that now, you lot are just going to start laughing!"

Harry laughed loudly as the sun dipped behind a cloud. No doubt Weasley himself was peering at them talking civilly from where he had Astronomy up in the Tower. He grinned to himself, thinking about the expression on the red-head's face. No doubt he would be scowling.

"What are you grinning about?" Harry asked curiously. He shrugged.

"Life in general."

Malfoy smiled.

The sixth year looked relatively promising.

* * *

Yes, in case you were wondering, the story is now finished. Finally, that's only the second non one-shot that's I've finished - it leaves me free to concentrate of my other two, at least.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it - if you did, please leave feedback, and take a look at my other work.

Thank you for reading, it's been fun!

Warmest regards,

smokey

xxx


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